


Water Under the Bridge

by UnsteadyGenius



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Angst, End of the World, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, HighSpecs, Opposites Attract, Rare Pairings, Romance, Sexual Content, Sexual Tension, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, World of Ruin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-05
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-09-28 13:29:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 125,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10104236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnsteadyGenius/pseuds/UnsteadyGenius
Summary: With Noctis gone, eternal darkness reigns over Eos. Still blinded but desperate to join his friends, Ignis enlists Aranea's help as he relearns to fight and survive in a post-apocalyptic world.





	1. Prologue

**Water Under the Bridge**

**Prologue**

"Son of a bitch!" Gladiolus, the King's Shield to Noctis and bodyguard of the group, fell back and cursed. The hair on his muscular arms was singed from the sudden flare that came from the campfire. Noctis and Prompto looked up from their game of King's Knight on their phones, howling with laughter while Aranea rolled her eyes to the side of the now roaring fire.

"How did you not see that one coming? We told you not to use magic to start the fire, but did you listen? _Noooooo._ " Noctis, the prince of Insomnia, ridiculed.

"I figured I was doing you guys a favor by getting the fire started quickly instead of doing it the old fashioned way with flint," he explained sheepishly, embarrassed that he messed up such a simple task. Camping was his specialty, so it was rare for him to screw up anything in that department.

"And, due to your selfless act, you've gone and burned your arm! Good job, buddy!" Prompto, a blonde, spritely man, and Noctis' best friend, cheered sarcastically as he pumped his fist in the air. Gladio growled and got to his feet, disappearing into the green tent behind him to retrieve his phone. Both boys giggled again and returned their attention back to their games, pointing to their screens and giving tips to one another on how to pass each level.

Aranea, still wearing her black leather fighting gear and her silver hair pulled into several little braids, got to her feet as well, dusting her hands off. She smoothly strolled over to Ignis, the fourth man of the team and royal advisor to Noctis, who was dutifully manning a campfire stove in the shadows. He was reading from his notebook and stirring a pot with great concentration. He hardly noticed when Aranea stood on her tiptoes, her chin barely resting on his shoulder. "What do you have going on over here?"

A smirk appeared on his lips and he turned his head slightly, looking at her out of the corner of his spectacled eyes and speaking with a distinct accent. "Packed Mushroom Stew. It's just something I thought up last week while we were traveling through Vesperpool."

She scrunched her face in disgust and backed off, shifting over to lean her lower back against the extended countertop of the stove. "Blegh. I hate mushrooms. Disgusting, gross, nasty things."

Ignis shrugged but continued to smile. "My apologies; I should have asked what everyone wanted before assuming. I'd hate to have a guest go hungry merely because she didn't approve of what I was cooking," he tapped the spoon on the edge of the pot and placed it in a holder to the side. "Do you have any requests?"

Aranea narrowed her eyes skeptically and then, without warning, plucked the notebook he was still holding from his hand. The act took him by surprise but he surrendered control of it. He watched her with interest as she flipped the pages, reading each recipe carefully. Her eyes fell on one in particular and she let out a hearty laugh, holding the page up to him with a pointer finger on the recipe. "Flame roasted toast? You're kidding, right?"

He sighed, faintly mortified. "If you'd pay attention, you'd see that the handwriting for that individual recipe is vastly unlike the others. I was only ten when I came up with and I knew I had to start somewhere," he made clear by pointing to the near-illegible childish handwriting, comparing it to his now-elegant and narrow penmanship.

"Ahhhh, I see," she laughed again, continuing to skim through the pages. Suddenly, her eyes lit up. "This! Do you have the ingredients to make this?"

Ignis took the notebook back and nodded when she pointed to her choice. "Prairie Style Skewers? Yes, I believe I do. I know Gladio will be very excited as well to see these being made. They're one of his favorites. We recently came across some Anaks, so you're in luck. It shouldn't take too long to make, if you're alright with waiting?"

"Not like I have a choice, do I?"

"I'm afraid not," he turned back to the stove and moved the pot of stew to the back burner, a serious expression on his face. He knelt down and dug around in a cooler for the Anak meat that they'd obtained a few days earlier, as well as a spare Leiden pepper. He quickly got to work, chopping and cutting the ingredients with expert precision. He prepared the cubed meat with seasonings and paired them with the peppers on the skewers, continuing their conversation. "Nonetheless, it's the least I can do for our guest of the evening, especially with all the help you lent us defeating those daemons we encountered back there. I'm honestly not sure we would have survived without you."

She casually waved a hand in the air. "It's nothing, really. I figured I owed you as much, seeing as I was ordered by the Empire to kill you back at Fort Vaullerey and all."

Ignis nodded, pausing for a second to grab his Ebony coffee on the counter. He took a sip and placed the skewers in a pan on the already-hot stove. "Yes, but I seem to remember you saying something along the lines of 'not getting paid overtime' to continue your combat against us."

"Well, do you blame me? I mean, come on; my time is valuable, after all. Plus," she smirked devilishly at him, "I seem to remember _you_ ready to kick my ass with those polearm moves of yours. I admit, I never thought I'd find someone whose techniques rivals my own, but you're pretty damn good."

"Comes with the territory of guarding the prince, I suppose," he replied humbly as he turned the skewers, checking to see that they were cooking evenly. "For all intents and purposes, I'd like to think we can put that battle behind us, wouldn't you? Water under the bridge?" he suggested, flashing her a charming smile. Something about the way he looked at her made her feel funny-almost in a way she'd never felt before. Her cheeks flushed red and she was forced to avert her gaze to the ground, suddenly finding her shoes and the dirt extremely fascinating.

She heard him chuckle. When she felt her cheeks return to their normal color, she dared to bring her face back up and saw Ignis was taking another sip of his coffee. "Hey, aren't you going to be wired drinking that stuff this late? I mean, it's already close to nine and that's like your third cup," she teased.

Ignis raised an eyebrow. "A bit judgmental, aren't we?" he quipped, putting his cup down and turning the skewers in the pan again. "To answer your question, no. I still manage to get to bed at a decent hour and I'll still be the first one up in the morning. For as long as I've been drinking this, a few cups of coffee have never disrupted my sleep."

"Ok then. If you say so," she crossed her arms across her chest, giving the impression that she didn't believe him.

As Ignis opened his mouth to argue, he was interrupted by loud whining. "Iggy!" Prompto called out from across camp. "When's dinner done? I'm so hungry!"

Noctis and Gladio-who was now sitting by the other two boys, joining them in a game of King's Knight-also chimed in their complaints about the wait. Aranea looked at Ignis who didn't seem the least bit annoyed at the demands. "Is this normal? Whining at you like a bunch of five-year-olds?"

"Very much so. I usually choose meals that don't take too long to make, otherwise, I have to deal with this," he tossed his head back in the direction of the three, earning a shy giggle from Aranea.

"Well, that's my fault. Sorry that I'm so picky and had you make a whole different meal _on top_ of the one you were already in the middle of."

"It's no trouble at all," he reassured, downing the rest of his coffee and pulling the cooked skewers from the stove. He plated the skewers just right, handing a good portion of them to Aranea. As she reached for the plate, her hand brushed his and she felt herself go red again. They both locked eyes and smiled. "I hope you enjoy," he finally said, relinquishing the plate from his grip.

She was never the girl to get tongue-tied around any guy, but she found words hard to come by around Ignis. He was smart, charming, and incredibly good looking if she did say so herself. Her heart raced as she finally gave him an awkward smile. "Heh, I will," she managed to get out before walking away to eat the food he'd especially prepared for her, feeling his eyes on her the entire time.


	2. The Journey Home

**The Journey Home**

_After the Crystal_

Crossing two continents and battling countless daemons had really taken a toll on the trio. Every muscle in their body throbbed from over-exertion and their feet were bloodied and blistered from their extensive travels. Their clothes were tattered and they were running on little to no sleep. Camping for longer than a few hours was out of the question, especially when the Darkness had made every daemon exceedingly stronger than before.

Prompto, usually the first to whine when things got rough, was so exhausted that he couldn't find the strength to utter one complaint. His gait, once springy and full of energy, was sluggish and hunched. Gladio marched ahead as quietly as he could, making sure the coast was clear as they soldiered on.

Eyesight permanently damaged to the point of blindness from the battle in Altissia against Leviathan some months ago, Ignis had taken to falling to the rear, moving much slower than he did before. His cane would catch in the grooves and roots of the ground and cause him to stumble, but he was past the point of falling to the ground anymore. Sometimes, Prompto would ask how he was doing and Ignis would utter a terse, "I'm fine."

The world of Eos was now completely enshrouded in darkness, made eternal the moment Noctis was absorbed by the Crystal in Zegnautus Keep back in Niflheim. When they all tried to reach the Crystal, they were suddenly ambushed by hordes of daemons. The trio urged Noctis to leave them behind, thinking that by getting to the Crystal, he could banish the Darkness and, with it, the daemons. It didn't work. Instead, the Crystal sucked Noctis in without a trace.

By the time they arrived, Ardyn, the Chancellor of Niflheim and their newly sworn enemy, stood beaming in the glow of the Crystal's light. Angered and afraid, Gladio swung his Greatsword at his head and Prompto fired a well-aimed shot, but it was pointless.

Ardyn was immortal.

The Chancellor picked his fedora up, knocked to the ground by the attacks, and dusted it off on his robes, replacing it on his head without a care in the world. He shot them a sadistic smile over his shoulder-only now, his face was completely disfigured and infinitely more menacing than it had been just seconds before. The whites of his eyes were blackened and his pupils took on a frightening shade of yellow. Black tear-like markings streamed down his ghastly, pale face. With the flick of a hand, he turned on his heels and bid them farewell, wishing them safe travels back home.

That was just under two months ago and they'd been fighting their way back to safety ever since, finally stumbling upon the city of Lestallum. The more miles they walked and the more frantic they became trying finding shelter, the more towns they'd find deserted of people and completely overrun with daemons. Lestallum was looking like the only safe haven for refugees, and that was only due to the power plant keeping light on in the center of the city, thwarting the light-fearing daemons from entering.

That same halo of light was now within sight, just on the horizon above the tree line. Prompto tugged eagerly at Ignis' shirt sleeve, alerting him that they were close. Mildly reinvigorated, they moved at a much quicker pace. Salvation was upon them.

Gladio took a second to wipe away the sweat that dripped from his forehead. They'd almost forgotten that Lestallum-and the region around it-was known for being unbearably hot. If they didn't die from the flocks of daemons that lunged at them every step of the way, then the heat would definitely do them in. "C'mon guys, we're almost home," he hoarsely encouraged from ahead.

"Home away from home, you mean. It ain't no Insomnia, that's for sure," Prompto corrected, referring to the city they originally hailed from, now nothing more than a pile of rubble after the Niflheim invasion almost a year ago.

As they lumbered on, the ground began to quake beneath them, throwing them off-balance. The shaking went on for what felt like forever, but they knew what was coming and braced for it. From the depths of Eos' surface rose a red, muscular, gargantuan daemon, roaring ominously and wielding a fire-blazing sword. A Red Giant.

Ignis froze. From what he could gather, he knew he was closest to the monster, but he wasn't sure where it was exactly in relation to him. When the giant roared, the sound echoed off the trees and mountains around them, making it impossible to accurately pinpoint its location. That didn't stop the Red Giant from spotting him, though. Seeing the helpless man, it raised its sword up high and zeroed in on its prey.

"Look out!" Gladio yelled, having run back suddenly from his position as leader of the group and pushing Ignis out of harm's way. He narrowly blocked the daemon's attack just in time with his own weapon, grunting as he tried to parry it away from them. "Prompto, you take Ignis and get the hell out of here!"

Prompto, already at the ready, fired his gun at the monster, stunning it just enough to send it stumbling backward. This action allowed Gladio to catch his breath for a split second. "Are you kidding me? No way! We're not leaving you! "

"I don't think we have it in us to go toe-to-toe with another one of these guys, again. Just go, I'll be right behind you!" he commanded, swinging the sword at the Red Giant who was sprinting back toward the trio, having regained its composure. Gladio somersaulted in the air to land another hit, but the daemon anticipated the attack and deflected the strike with its own weapon. The force knocked Gladio to the ground, dazed. This thing was powerful.

Prompto tried to divert the Red Giant's attention away from Gladio and Ignis by running behind the beast, a large boulder offering him shelter as he shot several bullets into its back. The tactic worked. The daemon whipped around and stalked away to find the assailant, blindly swinging its sword in their general direction.

Ignis, unable to stand by any longer, summoned his daggers to his possession. He took a step toward the fray, but a feminine hand stopped him, forcibly gripping his bicep. "Where the hell do you think you're going?"

Instinctively, he jerked his arm away. Though the voice sounded incredibly familiar, he could not put a name to it. "Who's there?"

"Maybe you should let the big kids handle this one," she demanded, ignoring his question and shoving him behind her as she leapt into battle.

Ahead of them, Prompto's bullets tore into the giant's chest. Gladio, now fully recovered, jumped high in the air, bringing his sword down aggressively on its head. The creature roared in pain but the attack also infuriated it that much more. It held a hand, palm out, at the two and a dark, twisted aura appeared. Gravity pulled at Gladio and Prompto and they clawed at the ground, desperately trying to grab hold of anything they could to avoid getting pulled in and further maimed.

"I . . . CAN'T . . . HOLD . . . ON . . ." Prompto screamed, his fingertips gradually slipping from the random branch he was struggling to hold. Just as he lost his grip, the feminine warrior cartwheeled in the air with her spear, poised for an attack. She stabbed the Red Giant in the hand and ended the gravitational pull that it was sending out. Blood spurted from the daemon, landing on the fighters. Another screech-like roar reverberated off the mountains. With one swift motion, she pulled the spear out of its hand and threw it, javelin-style, at its face.

Gladio blinked a couple of times before getting his wits about him. He seized his sword, abandoned in the grass when the gravitational attack forced him to grab the bushes, and followed the woman's lead, kicking off of the large nearby boulder and slicing the monster from the neckline to the chest. Prompto scrambled to reclaim his gun, loading it with more ammo and sending an endless barrage of bullets into every joint and limb the Red Giant had.

Embarrassed and ashamed at his lacking ability to help out, Ignis still lingered on the ground where the woman tossed him aside. In his heart, it killed him to admit that he knew he'd end up being a hindrance, so he remained where he was. As he listened on, the same female voice continued to stand out to him. He was trying to remember where he'd heard her before and it drove him mad that the face and name evaded him. It was on the tip of his tongue. Whoever she was, she definitely knew how to hold her own in battle.

It didn't take long once she joined the fight for them to take down the Red Giant. With a final push, they rushed the monster with all they had. Overpowered and with a defeated scream, the monster toppled to the ground, dead.

Ignis, deeming it safe to move, carefully rose to his feet and felt for his cane in the grass. The woman dusted her hands off on her clothes and eyed her allies with annoyed disdain. "You guys look pitiful," she said dryly.

Prompto recognized the silver hair and the red-and-black leather attire almost immediately as the adrenaline of the battle wore off. He let out a disbelieving laugh, just delirious enough to want to run and hug her. "Holy shit! Aranea!"

His ears perked up and the name to the voice clicked in his head. "Aranea is here?" Ignis asked, approaching the group while trying to make sense of the situation.

Pulling her spear out of the Red Giant's body with a slight grunt, she flicked the blood and matter to the side in disgust. "In the flesh." She waved her weapon haphazardly in Gladio's direction. "Your sister said you'd be here soon enough, so we've been on high alert waiting for you to get here. Took you long enough; we were beginning to think you guys died."

"And here I was thinking we made good time," Gladio said. He ran a hand down his face, frazzled, but explained, "The Regalia was destroyed back at Zegnautus Keep, so we had to hike our asses across Niflheim and Lucis to get here. It wasn't exactly a walk in the park or anything."

"Heh, I figured as much. Well, enough with the niceties. Let's get you guys out of here and settled in Lestallum. Nothing good comes from being outside city limits anymore, as you probably know. We can take the path over this way that we rigged together with lights to keep the daemons at bay," she pointed a short distance away. Prompto and Gladio followed her finger and slightly relaxed, noting how close they were to safety. Resting her spear on her shoulder, she confidently led the way, but not before slapping Ignis on the shoulder in jest as she passed him. "Let's go, Four-Eyes. You're coming, too."

Drained but determined, they followed close behind with Prompto holding Ignis under his elbow to keep pace. As they slashed through the bushes and trees, Aranea looked back and asked, "I noticed there's only three of you; but last time there was only three of you, it was the prince in the group and not blondie." She was referring to when they all last crossed paths in Tenebrae. Prompto had been knocked off a moving train by an unknowing Noct, led to believe that Prompto was Ardyn and Ardyn was Prompto by none other than Ardyn himself.

"Good eye," Gladio confirmed, a hint of melancholy tinging his voice.

"Sooo . . . where's the prince?"

No one was quick to respond. They were just as clueless to Noct's exact whereabouts, only that he was pulled into the Crystal. Aranea slowed down as they reached the lit path, turning around to face them as she continued to walk backward. "Is he coming back?" Again, no one responded. She took the hint and returned facing forward, her pace picking up.

The darkness was mind-numbing and the humidity was stifling. Their clothes were caked in grime and thoroughly soaked with sweat, sticking uncomfortably to their skin. Every few seconds, they were slapping blood-thirsty bugs away from their faces, necks, and arms. What they wouldn't give to be able to rest for more than an hour. Daemons screeched and rumbled far in the distance, but still close enough that the four refused to let their guards down.

At long last, they stumbled onto the paved road toward the lively city of Lestallum. They'd finally made it. As they grew close, they saw that the city was still bustling with energy as it had been before, but no longer for the reasons it was once known for. It felt like the wind had been knocked out of them as they observed the gruesome scene.

People were sitting against building walls: bruised, bloodied, and beaten. Some moaned in pain, begging for relief. Bodies lined the roads with sheets carelessly thrown over them, waiting to be identified. Children, separated from their parents, wailed for help. One man held a piece of cloth to his face, trying to temper the blood flow from a gash on his forehead. Those that were not injured scurried around, trying to assist in any way they could.

"What a nightmare," Ignis rasped. Though he couldn't see, the sounds of anguish and misery told him more than he needed to know.

"People have been pouring in from all over Lucis since the day the world went dark. It has been absolute chaos day in and day out. You wouldn't believe the amount of dead we've had to bury due to lack of care or because they got here too late for help. Honestly, this is a calmer scene than we're used to seeing lately," Aranea explained, quieter than she meant to.

"I thought the deserted towns we passed through were haunting, but this? This is . . . this is hell," Gladio spit out through his clenched teeth, passing another victim of the daemon's wrath whose mangled arm sagged by his side. Prompto's voice caught in his throat and he tried to keep his eyes forward, but avoiding the display of carnage was impossible. Tears burned his eyes but he refused to let them fall. Not now.

"Gladdy! Oh, thank the Gods!" a teenage girl cried out, pushing through the crowd and dashing toward the four as they despairingly staggered within city limits.

"Iris!" Gladio's expression changed from hard and steadfast, to a softer and very-much relieved one. He scooped his little sister into his arms, hugging her close. Her words were incoherent as she sobbed uncontrollably into his shoulder. Stroking her hair soothingly, he held her tighter to his chest. "Don't worry, you're safe now. I'm back and everything will be ok."

Another figure loomed behind, watching. "I hate to interrupt this reunion, but I think it's best we reconvene somewhere a little more private," he suggested. They looked up to see Cor, the Marshal of the Royal Crownsguard, converging on the emotional scene with a small boy, Talcott, by his side. Gladio recovered quickly, pulling away from Iris and standing at attention before him. Both Prompto and Ignis stood tall as well and Cor nodded, motioning wordlessly with his head for everyone to follow him to the Levelle.

As they walked toward the Levelle, a hotel building tucked in the corner of one of the side streets, Iris clung to her brother's arm with tears still falling down her face. They didn't even bother to check-in at the front desk like they normally did (not that anyone was there to check them in), instead heading straight to the carpeted stairs to the second floor. Cor retrieved a key from his pocket and unlocked the first door they came across, opening it and crossing the threshold into a vacant, spacious room. He turned on a lamp adorning one of the nightstands to bring some light into the room.

The rest of the team filed in and Talcott, the last one in, closed the door behind them with a sharp _click_. The screams and cries from the city streets could still be heard, though they were at least muffled now. They all took a seat on whatever they were closest to, whether it was one of the two queen-sized beds, the couch, or the random chairs that perfectly accented the room.

Cor chose to remain standing as he stared forlornly out the window upon the apocalyptic nightmare below. No one moved or dared to breathe, awaiting Cor's words. He turned around with his hands behind his back. "According to the Prophecy, Noctis is the only one that can banish the darkness and bring salvation to all of Eos," he stated somewhat enigmatically.

Prompto's lower lip trembled uncontrollably at the mention of his best friend. "But, where is he? H-how . . . how can he bring the light back?" All the emotion he'd pent up was now on the verge of spilling out, but he defiantly choked it back. He had to stay strong.

Cor paced the length of the room, his hands still clasped behind his back. His mouth was fixed in a grim line. "Noctis was ordained as the Chosen One by the Gods long ago as a young boy. It is well documented within the prophecy that the Chosen King will one day come forth and save all of Eos. _When_ that day will come, though," he paused, looking out the window again, "is uncertain."

"Woah, wait a second. Hold up. Seriously?" Aranea interjected. "Are you saying that you expect us to sit and wait in this Gods-forsaken shithole for who knows how long, hoping that _someday_ this _Chosen King_ will come back and save us?" her tone was increasingly antagonistic as she rose to her feet in frustration.

"I don't _expect_ you to do anything."

"So, what? Do you want us to go out, guns blazing, hoping one day everything will turn out alright? Does the wise and powerful _Marshal_ even have a plan to save us? Well? We're waiting."

Cor narrowed his eyes and raised his chin. "Sit down, _Commodore_ ," he demanded.

"I asked you a question, _Marshal_."

"And I asked you to take a seat," he repeated. She glared at him extensively before relenting, sinking back into her chair. "Lest you forget, despite our different hierarchies, as Marshal _I outrank you_. Ergo, I suggest you quiet down and listen."

She turned away, crossing her legs and pouting. Talcott timidly raised his hand as if he were a schoolboy waiting to be called on in class. Cor acknowledged him and he nervously stuttered, "I . . . uh . . . well . . . what do we do now?"

"Right now, we have no choice but to wait for the prince's return," he began. "Until that time comes, however, we will use our skills and wits to protect the surviving citizens. We will save the stranded, guard Lestallum every second of every day, and keep fighting like hell. There'll be times where it will be bleak and hopeless, but we need to stay hopeful and vigilant for the good of the people. One wrong move-one careless error-and we all lose."

Cor scanned the faces of the ragtag bunch before him and exhaled loudly. They definitely had their work cut out for them. With his arms crossed, he noted how weary and tired they all looked, especially the three men that came in just that evening, and decided to call it a night. "We've got a lot to focus on in the coming days, so rest up," he recommended, crossing the room to the door. Talcott followed, understanding that it was time to leave.

Cor opened the door but hesitated, a final thought weighing on his mind. He looked over his shoulder and eyed Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis over one more time. "It's good to have you back, gentlemen," he admitted with a nod, ushering Talcott in front of him and closing the door.

With Cor no longer in the room, they unintentionally began to relax. Something about the Marshal's presence kept everyone at attention. He could be discussing something as simple as how to count to ten and they would still feel the need to remain constantly focused until he was done.

Prompto yawned and stretched. "Well, I call dibs on the shower," he monotonously declared, not even bothering to wait until he made it to the bathroom before peeling his sweaty, dirty shirt from his chest.

"Cute, blondie. You can almost see some muscle on that tiny body of yours," Aranea teased. Prompto gave her the middle finger as he shut the door, the sound of the shower turning on moments later.

Ignis was still perched on the edge of the bed, his elbows resting on his knees and his head bowed. "With all the refugees coming into Lestallum, what kind of living arrangements are we looking at?" he asked.

Aranea moved from her chair to the bed that Ignis occupied, flopping onto it and poking him in the back. "Aw, were you hoping to share a room with me?" she flirted shamelessly. Gladio let out an amused snort, watching Ignis turn slightly red and his posture suddenly go rigid and uncomfortable. Always the perfect gentleman, Ignis wouldn't dare to outright suggest such an outlandish idea.

"Oh, no. Uh, that's . . . that's not at . . . I-I didn't . . ."

"Relax, Specs," she cackled, her hands resting on her stomach as she stared at the ceiling. "I've been bunkin' with Big Guy's sister. We've been having ourselves a regular ol' girl's sleepover and all. Cor took little guy under his wing and they've been sharing a room down the hall. We figured you three would shack up here. We're expecting rooms to start getting sparse real soon as more people flee here; the more we can share, the better."

Gladio acquiesced, still on the couch with a sleepy Iris leaned on his arm. "I think that's smart. We're all pretty used to sharing close quarters, anyway."

Aranea pushed herself up onto her elbows and looked at Gladio. "That's great! I'm so glad you approve. Heaven knows we were waiting on your final say before settling on who's sleeping where," she replied sarcastically. For the second time that night, Aranea received the middle finger, this time from Gladio. "I'm feeling the love from you guys, truly. It's so heartwarming."

"Maybe if you weren't such a sarcastic bitch . . ." Gladio said.

She winked back. "Love you, too."

The water from the bathroom abruptly shut off as Prompto finished his shower. "Hey guys! Are our clothes still around from when we were here last time?" he yelled from behind the bathroom door.

The question hung in the air, unanswered, before Iris snapped her head up from her drowsy state. "Oh! Yes! Your clothes! Yeah, they're still in the closets, untouched. Good thing you guys left them here, right?" she motioned to the two small closets against the wall close to the bathroom. Prompto responded with a "Thanks", emerging with a towel around his waist as he hastily grabbed a pair of comfortable clothes from one of the closets before retreating back into the bathroom. He didn't want to deal with another comment from the Commodore.

As the door shut, Aranea clapped her hands together and jumped up from the bed. "Well, I don't know about you guys, but I could use a drink. Beer, anyone? I smuggled some into our rooms since it's the end of the world and all and who knows when we'll eventually run out of alcohol."

"Yes, please," Gladio practically begged, following Aranea to the small attached kitchen, taking the beer she offered him. He grabbed another one for Ignis, alerted Prompto that his was on the kitchen counter, and shook his head firmly when his little sister asked for one. Her lower lip poked out slightly, but she understood.

They drank their beers in silence, Prompto having rejoined them back in the common area after getting dressed and retrieving his beer from the kitchen. He was the first to speak, once again choking back pent-up tears and emotions. "It's weird not having Noct here. I-I keep expecting him to walk through the door or something, but I know deep down he's gone. It's just . . . I miss him. It's not the same."

Ignis took a sip of his beer and nodded. "Indeed. We can only hope that, if Cor is correct in his retelling of the Prophecy, he'll return sooner rather than later. Wherever he's at, I just hope he's well."

"The kid was snatched up into some sort of crystal thing. Somehow I doubt that he's 'well'," Aranea jeered, her beer already halfway gone. She stopped and viewed Ignis with concern though as she realized that, even behind his tinted glasses, he couldn't hide the look of despondence on his face. Feeling somewhat guilty for what she said and unable to shake the sadness she suddenly felt upon seeing Ignis' expression, she lifted her beer in a toasting motion, a sorrowful smile on her lips. "But for your sake, I hope he's well, too."

Gladio followed suit, raising his bottle in the air. "Here's to Noct."

Soon, they were all toasting to the missing prince.

"To Noct."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hello everyone! Welcome to Water Under the Bridge!
> 
> The Ignis/Aranea pairing is one of my absolute favorites and I've been very excited to write this story for some time now. This will span the 10 years between chapter 13 and chapter 14 of the game, so I've got a lot to cover. Let me know in the reviews or a PM what you think. Reviews let me know what I need to change and what I should focus more on (plus, they're awesome motivators :D ). I hope you enjoy!
> 
> I've found that I update just about once a week (depending on how work is going, what's going on in my life, etc), so look for the next chapter soon!


	3. The Feeling of Seclusion

**The Feeling of Seclusion**

The days continued to pass but the sun failed to rise. The hours and days elapsed in a dark and dreary haze and everyone longed for the glow of the sun's rays. It was no longer feasible to simply look out the window and use the sun and its position in the sky to judge the time of day. Would they ever get used to this new world?

Gladiolus, Prompto, and Ignis sat around the dining table in the corner of their shared hotel room, cleaned up but wearied. The last few nights saw them sleeping harder than they ever had before, unmoving and dead to the world. If it weren't for the alarm that Ignis routinely set every night before bed, it was almost certain they'd sleep for days on end. The stress of their trek across Niflheim and Lucis started to settle into their muscles and joints and they agonized to each other over the aches and pains.

"I don't think I could lift a freakin' cotton ball if I tried. My shoulders are killing me," Prompto griped, digging his fingers into the traps of his shoulders in a bad attempt at a self-massage.

"You're telling me. There aren't enough bandages in the world to cover up the blisters on my feet," Gladio commiserated. Prompto made a face, sticking his tongue out in disgust. That made Gladio faintly laugh, but even the act of laughing caused him to wince in pain, his muscles sore and tight in his abdomen.

"What about you, Iggy? You've been awfully quiet over there. Feeling ok?" Prompto nudged the advisor in the arm with a closed fist, but he still stared blankly ahead. "Iggy?"

Ignis snapped out of his trance-like state. "Oh, did you say something?"

Prompto tilted his head. "Yeah, are you ok? You look beat."

Ignis took his glasses off and rubbed his eyes, done more out of habit when he was stressed or tired than anything. He replaced the glasses on his face and looked to Prompto's general location, faking a smile. "Never better."

"How the . . . Come on! Gladio and I can't be the only ones who are in pain over here. "

"Ah, give it a rest, Prom. Iggy wouldn't tell us he was in any sort of pain, even if his life depended on it. Can't let anyone think he's anything but 100% at all times," Gladio divulged lightheartedly. They all smiled, knowing it was true.

A sharp knock startled them and silenced their conversation. The door flew open and Cor stood in the entryway with his katana in hand. There was an obvious emergency, but, in typical Cor fashion, his reaction was expertly composed. "Daemons in the northeast. Let's go," was all he said before speeding off down the stairs.

No other instructions necessary, the three knocked their chairs back and dashed about the room, trying to get ready. As Ignis found his shoes, Gladio held an arm out, effectively prohibiting him from putting them on. "No, you're not coming."

Ignis brought his face up, stunned. Had he heard him right? "Pardon?"

The frantic atmosphere abruptly turned tense and awkward. Prompto stopped lacing his shoes but didn't look up. Gladio shook his head. "Prompto and I talked at length about this the other day and we've agreed that you've gotta stay here. I know you want to go, believe me, but right now you staying here is for the best."

Ignis balked, snapping his head to where he thought Prompto was getting ready. His face contorted into a look of anger and betrayal. "Prompto? You, too?"

Prompto bit his lower lip and avoided his friend's mutilated glower. He had nothing to say that would appease Ignis or absolve himself from going behind his back and agreeing with Gladio. He fidgeted with his laces and adjusted his socks more than necessary.

Gladio's voice brought Ignis' attention back on him. "Trust us, this is for the best. We'll be back soon and, when we do, we can play cards or something," he feebly persuaded.

What a slap to the face. "You know we haven't played cards in months, Gladio," Ignis curtly brought up. A wave of embarrassment washed over Gladio at the fact he clearly forgot this small tidbit.

Prompt and Gladio's weapons materialized within their hands, but Prompto still dodged Ignis' steely glare. "Sorry dude, but Gladio's right. I . . . _we_ don't want anything to happen to you."

Ignis rose to his feet, his arms rigid by his side. "I don't think you two understand-."

"No, _you_ don't understand." Gladio pointed a finger at Ignis' face, his voice loud and heated as he stepped closer to him. "Stop trying to prove that you're the same person you were before Altissia. For the love of the Six, _you're blind,_ Ignis! Your eyesight is gone and it's not coming back! We can't babysit you everytime there's a battle, worrying about your safety or our own. Don't you remember saying once that you'd bow out if you weren't able to keep up?"

Ignis stiffened. He remembered those words well. They were spoken back in Cartanica to get the group to reconcile after being so incredibly hostile toward each other. Everyone was discouraged that the Altissian battle had gone so wrong and they struggled to come to terms with the outcome. Back then, Gladio was adamant against bringing Ignis any further on their quest to Gralea, guilt-ridden at the notion that he was unable to save his friend from the harm that befell him. Ignis swore that he'd be fine if they just gave him the chance to show them. And they did. They forged on with Ignis in tow, but it just wasn't the same.

With his shoulders rolled back and a nearly-imperceptible scowl on his lips, Ignis almost looked threatening enough to take on the large bodyguard before him. Gladio, however, wasn't looking for a fight. "Ignis, I'm sorry, but I need you to remember that promise that you made. It's not fair to us and it's not fair to you that you come along on these missions anymore. So, I'm asking you, _please,_ stay here and wait for us to get back," he implored, staring hard at the face of his friend and longtime ally. Refusing to hear anything else Ignis had to say on the matter (for fear he may change his mind and want to bring him along), Gladio left, his heavy footsteps heading toward the still-opened door and down the stairs with Prompto's feather-light steps toddling behind.

Ignis remained frozen in the middle of the room, mind completely blank and stomach ice-cold. His worst fears had been realized-left behind while his friends rushed headlong into battle without him, all because of a stupid injury that took his sight. He felt his feet robotically take him to the door and, in a surprising fit of rage, he slammed it as hard as he could. Doing so felt cathartic and a small part of him hoped the act would resonate with Gladio and Prompto if they were still nearby. It wasn't like him to lash out in, especially when he was always the one who remained composed and stoic in his emotions. But, in this moment, he felt helpless. Hopeless. Useless.

What was his purpose anymore? Until now, his whole life had been based around Noct. There was no such thing as a 'childhood', a 'social calendar' as a teenager was unheard of, and forget that little thing called 'free time'. Now, with Noctis gone for however long, Ignis felt lost. Coupled with the fact that not even his friends wanted him to fight with them—no matter how sound their arguments—and it was enough to drive him to the brink of insanity.

Running both hands through his unstyled hair and clasping them behind his neck, he hung his head in defeat. What else could he do right now to pass the time that didn't require sight? Play King's Knight? Nope. Discover new recipes? Negative. Play solitaire? What a joke. He could take a nap, but Ignis associated naps with laziness and he was far from the lazy type.

He wondered if the Lestallum market was open, despite the situation they were in. It wouldn't be near as busy as it used to be (if it were busy at all), but anything was better than remaining cooped up in the room all alone and bored. He picked his cane up from the ground beside his side of the bed and locked up the room behind him.

The humidity hung lazily in the air, bringing instant perspiration to his forehead as he made the short trek to the marketplace. He wasn't exactly sure what he was expecting to do once he got there. Sure, he had some recipes memorized, but even if he did get the ingredients, it wasn't like he was comfortable asking Prompto and Gladio for assistance in the kitchen. That was his domain and he wasn't about to debase himself anymore by asking them to help with the cooking.

Upon entering the—what he could assume was deserted by the lack of noise and sound-marketplace, he heard Aranea commanding her cohorts, Biggs and Wedge, off to the side. "Gentlemen, we've gotten word that there are survivors over by the Rock of Ravatough. We've been given orders to mobilize at a nearby haven as soon as possible to assess the damage and rescue anyone we can, so get ready to suit up and head out."

"Oi! 'Ave you gone mad? Howdya expect us to get out tha' way without so much as a vehicle? It'd take us all day to get there, never mind the daemons!" Biggs asked, not at all wanting to walk the hundred-some-odd miles to their destination.

"Suck it up, buttercup. They want us to save the masses? We're gonna do it by any means necessary," Aranea said, still engrossed in reading something from the dossier in her hand. She flipped a few pages and held the papers to the wall, scribbling some notes in the margin with a pen, the cap dangling from her mouth.

"Ari, you can't be serious! The three of us? Rescuing people who may be dead by now? You're a right git, you know tha'?" Wedge slighted her, his hands flailing wildly in the air.

Aranea, focused on the papers with the pen cap in her mouth, pushed him away with a hand to his face. "Shut up and go sit down. You're annoying me."

Ignis, eavesdropping off to the side and still stewing from being left behind by his friends, stepped forward. "Room for one more on this mission?"

The three jumped in surprise and turned around, noticing him standing there with an awkward type of certainty. They blinked, confused, and then Aranea began to laugh as if he'd told the funniest joke. Once she started, she couldn't stop. Ignis frowned. "Is something funny?"

Wiping away tears, Aranea spoke between her laughter. "How the hell do you expect to help us when you probably need help getting dressed in the morning?"

"Excuse me?" Ignis' jawline was taut and he gripped the top of his cane a little tighter, offended at Aranea's outright insult and jab at his condition.

Still unable to get ahold of herself, she doubled over and covered her mouth to muffle her snickering. When she realized she was the only one laughing, she looked up and saw Ignis wasn't even cracking so much as a smirk. Her giggling stopped. "Oh. Oh, shit. You're serious?"

He remained still, his gaze planted firmly on her. Intrigued, she thrust her folder into Biggs' chest and walked to Ignis. Although she was half a foot shorter than him, her high-heeled boots and confidence made her appear much taller. She scrutinized him carefully as he stared vacantly at her through his tinted glasses, waiting for her response. After a moment, she shook her head. "Hell no, I don't think so."

"Why?"

"You really want me to stand here all day listing off why you can't come with me?"

"I've got the time," he countered.

"Well, I don't," Aranea sighed, massaging her temple with two fingers. "You may have been a badass fighter before you went blind, but whatever existential crisis you're going through right now, leave me out of it. You're not coming, so don't bother convincing me. My word is final."

She began to turn on her heels, ready to get back to planning her mission, but he gently grabbed her forearm. The move startled her. She didn't immediately pull away, instead waiting for him to speak. Her eyes fell on his gloved hand and her stare followed from his hand to his arm and up to his face. Being so close to him now allowed her the chance to examine the injuries that robbed him of his ability to see.

A scar split his right eyebrow, another slashed across the bridge of his nose, and a smaller one marred his lower lip. The largest scar, a pink and garish starburst pattern over the entirety of his left eye, stood out the most as it had sealed his eye shut, the result of some sort of fiery explosion. Scar tissue clouded his right eye but, still, it looked at her intimidatingly. It was as if he knew she was rudely staring. She couldn't help it; the injuries downright terrified her.

His soft, accented voice broke her chain of thought. "Please," he whispered, almost inaudibly. "I'm begging you, Aranea."

It was strange to hear him use her name. This was not the same man she joined at camp way back when. The man she knew before was skilled with his daggers and spears, graceful in combat, and moved in a way that fascinated her to no end. He had enough confidence to last a lifetime. But now? The man standing before her was simply a shell of his former self, far from the self-assured and slightly arrogant man who whipped up a whole new meal for her because she was being a brat about his almost-prepared mushroom stew.

Her breathing hitched and she pried her arm away carefully, backing away slowly. "I'm sorry, Ignis. Really, I am; but I can't let you come with me. You need to stay here where it's safe. Your buddies would kill me if you got hurt and I . . . I don't think I could ever forgive myself for letting anything happen to you." She looked like she had so much more to say, but instead she exhaled the breath she didn't realize she was holding and sauntered back to Biggs and Wedge. She needed to put as much distance between her and Ignis as possible, and fast.

Biggs and Wedge were about ready to ask what happened, but she didn't allow them the opportunity as she snatched the papers back and reread her notes one last time. With the flick of her hand, she signaled for them to follow her down to the western entrance of Lestallum to embark on their mission, leaving Ignis behind at the marketplace entrance.

Although she didn't want him to join her rescue mission, that didn't stop Ignis from wanting to help. He'd paid close enough attention when she was rambling off orders to know that Aranea and her men were headed to the Rock of Ravatough, a natural structure to the northeast of Lestallum. He decided to take matters into his own hands for the first time since Altissia, instead of letting others dictate what he needed to do. Irrationality and aggravation fueled Ignis' thoughts as he stalked away, ready to show that he didn't need to be protected by anyone.

* * *

The surprising perk of being blind was the fact that the eternal night didn't phase Ignis one bit. In one hand, he had his cane to guide the way (what good that was doing right now) while the other hand held his dagger. Although, with no one around to watch out for obstacles, his moves were a little more inept.

It had been a few hours since he left Lestallum and he was silently seething at the humid weather and the bugs that found his blood particularly tasty. There were a few times he considered turning back, but stubborn pride got the better of him and he kept going. Occasionally, he thought he'd heard a daemon approach him, but it turned out to be his imagination. Still, he remained vigilant, not wanting to get caught off guard, especially alone.

As he walked, he ruminated over the words of his friends and Aranea. If he was being rational, he understood entirely why they wanted him to remain behind. True, he wasn't the same person in battle that he used to be, but that didn't mean he couldn't _try_. But, on the other hand, it was unfair of them to ask him to idly stand by while they went about risking their lives.

Ok, that wasn't fair. The sounds he heard upon making it to Lestallum that first night haunted him to no end; he could only imagine how horrifying the sights were. He knew it wasn't like they _wanted_ to hunt overpowered daemons, recover mangled bodies, or find limbless survivors. It was only inevitable that this new world would permanently warp Prompto's fragile mentality and exhaust Gladio, as he was the strongest of the group (aside from Cor). Ignis reasoned that they only wanted what was best for him and just wanted to protect him, but in doing so they completely abandoned him.

And then there was Aranea. True, she didn't owe him one iota of an explanation for anything she said or did, but what did she know about him being safe? She couldn't begin to understand what it was that he was going through or what they'd been through as a group after they'd parted ways that next morning after the campfire. She had no right to stop him from coming.

Well, it was her mission, so technically she _did_ have that right.

Ignis continued his internal debate and the somewhat pathetic pity party while mindlessly slashing, hacking, and navigating through bushes and trees. He wondered if anyone noticed he was gone. Probably not, if the mission was still ongoing for Prompto, Gladio, and Cor. He was certain Aranea had no clue of his whereabouts, but only because they weren't anything other than comrades in this new daemon war, working together to stay alive.

His flow of thought strayed from his friends to his absent charge. He wondered what Noctis was doing, if he was ok. Would it have made any difference if they all went for the Crystal, instead of sending Noct to go alone? Would he still be here if they went together? When would he be back? Ignis hoped it wouldn't be too long, but-call it a gut feeling-deep down he knew Noct wouldn't return for a while. The thought depressed him further.

There was a rustle in the bushes not too far off, halting Ignis in his tracks. As he stilled, so did the rustling. _Must be the wind_ , he thought and resumed his walk. Again, he heard the rustling but, this time, it sounded nearer than before. With his dagger in one hand and his cane still in the other, he crouched low in a defensive position as he heard a deep growl coming toward him.

Before Ignis had time to react, a burly fist struck the back of his head, knocking his glasses to the ground and sending him flying forward. He braced his fall with both hands out, but the force was too much and his arms buckled, his face skidding across the dirt. The assailant danced around him playfully before it kicked him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him. Ignis rolled onto his back, coughing and clutching his stomach painfully. His mind went into overdrive as he concluded that he was up against a hobgoblin; a thick-skinned, green daemon known for its reliance on physicality, theft, and the occasional poison spell.

Pushing the pain in his stomach to the side of his mind, Ignis sprang to his feet, feeling the rush of the wind by his ear as he narrowly avoided another hit to the head. Unable to find the dagger he dropped, he took to summoning his lance to his possession. He tried to back up a few steps but was hindered by a tree against his back. The hobgoblin cast a poison spell in his direction but Ignis was quick enough to duck just in time. He lunged to the side and somersaulted in the air, hoping against all odds that, in doing so, he'd get a decent way away from the daemon, far enough to throw his spear with enough power behind it to injure it. However, as luck would have it, his perception was off and he touched down right beside the monster.

Quick on its feet, the hobgoblin twisted around and grabbed Ignis around the neck, effortlessly lobbing him to the ground. His head smashed against a rock protruding from the ground and Ignis felt thick, warm blood trickle from the resulting gash to the side of his head. He heard the hobgoblin wind up for another punch, but Ignis held his spear in front of him, blocking the fists before they could attack him. Not one to be deterred, the monster resorted to using its feet once again, successfully landing a few kicks to the side of Ignis' ribs.

 _I'm not about to go out like this_ , Ignis thought as he rolled away. He reached into his pocket, hoping that he had a random potion or elixir shoved away somewhere, but was discouraged to find that he either never thought to grab one before he left or, at some point, the Hobgoblin stole it from his possession. Judging by the overjoyed shrieking that came from its mouth, Ignis had to assume the latter.

He tried to get to his knees in a fruitless attempt to stand but was rocked by another fist to the face, cringing when he heard the sickening _crunch_ of his nose breaking. If he could see, Ignis knew there would be stars in his vision. Disregarding the rush of blood running from his nose, he blindly felt around for either of his weapons-the dagger or the spear-but both were seemingly out of his reach.

He realized the hobgoblin's calloused hand was around his ankle and was pulling at him with evil intent. Ignis used his free foot to try and kick the hand from him, but it was no use. With no branches or trees within grasp to hold on to, he was forced to brace himself as the hobgoblin threw him over his shoulder, through the air, and back down to the ground so hard that he was sure that he broke another rib.

Fighting alone with no vision was near impossible. If he could see, this fight would've been over in no time, but he wasn't used to the darkness in combat and he wasn't used to it alone. He couldn't see where to run, couldn't get a good judge on his opponent and its position in relation to him, and successfully managed to lose his weapons in the scuffle. Hand-to-hand combat would be useless against this thing as its skin was so tough that physical blows would laughably bounce right off it. Maybe Gladio and Prompto were right after all.

Ignis' calm demeanor turned to panic. The hobgoblin took advantage of the standstill between them by running at the vulnerable man, headbutting him in the chest and knocking him to the ground, beating him senselessly. Ignis brought his arms up to his head and curled away with his back to the daemon, protecting any crucial organs and limbs in doing so. If he couldn't fight, he might as well defend himself the best he could.

He prayed to the Gods to end it soon. Either put him out of his misery or give him the strength to beat the damn thing. The more hits he took, the quicker his consciousness slipped away, but he heard the faint sound of yelling in the distance among a group of people. Remaining in the fetal position, he figured it was just some pain-induced hallucination, but was surprised to learn his hallucination was reality when the punches ceased after the daemon was hit with some sort of weapon, stumbling backward in anguish.

"You've gotta be shittin' me. After I specifically told you to stay behind?!" Aranea's dismayed voice said as she ran in and knelt beside him. With a hand on his shoulder, she roughly rolled him over and groaned at the sight of his battered face. She waved her men over. "Biggs! Wedge! Watch him while I take care of this asshole."

"Aye-aye, Miss!" one of them replied, but Ignis wasn't sure who. Everything sounded muddled like it was happening underwater. One of the men hoisted Ignis over his shoulder, fireman's carry style, and rushed him away to safety. In the background, he heard Aranea skillfully take down the daemon with no difficulty whatsoever. _Outstanding_ , Ignis sarcastically thought, annoyed with her help but thankful all the same.

"You're safe now, lad. Jus' stay awake a bit longer, will yeh?" comforted the other man. Try as he might to stay alert, as he was carefully placed on the ground, Ignis' head lolled to the side and he felt the sweet release of unconsciousness take him away from his pain.

* * *

His pounding head roused him from sleep. A dull but deep tenderness spread throughout his chest and back, making it somewhat hard to breathe. From what Ignis could deduce, he was in a bed, probably back at the Levelle. He remembered the broken nose he received from the hobgoblin and his hand flew to his face to check on it, but everything felt fine. No cuts, no broken bones; the only thing wrong was the lingering ache all over his body that refused to go away. As he started to sit up, he was thrown back by a pillow to the head. "Bloody hell, what was that for?" he yelled, tossing the pillow from his face onto the floor.

"What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" Aranea hissed from beside the bed. "Do you have a death wish or something, going out alone under your condition?"

Ignis didn't answer as Aranea continued her rampage. "You are so lucky my men and I were nearby to fend off that hobgoblin, you know that? I mean, honestly, how could you be so stupid?"

He dismissed her concerns with a wave of his hand. "You needn't worry, I was capable of taking care of myself."

"Oh, is that so? So why did I have to use my last Phoenix Down and one of my remaining Hi-Elixirs to save your sorry ass?"

"You did what?"

Unable to restrain her aggravation, she picked the pillow up from the floor and, avoiding his attempts to fend her off, struck him a few times in the chest and arm before landing a final blow to the side of his head. "Yeah, a moment longer and you probably wouldn't be here right now. How the hell would I explain your dead body to your friends? You want to put that responsibility on me? Hmm?"

The more she ranted, the more remorseful he became and the more his pride diminished to shame. "I . . . I don't know . . ."

She laughed, incredulously. "How cute. You don't even have a good excuse. You know, _this_ is why everyone wanted you to stay behind, but you're too damn arrogant for your own good, aren't you? Noctis is gone and you don't owe him a damn thing right now, so why're you so hell-bent on proving to everyone that you can still protect the world?"

The sheer mention of Noctis' name and her incessant scolding, as if he were some child, caused him to break. "Because it's who I am!" he exclaimed, his face meeting hers for the first time and his eyebrows deeply furrowed. His outburst didn't faze her as she crossed her arms and eyed him with contempt. He continued. "All my life, I was brought up to live and die by the future king of Lucis. Every day, my entire being revolved around taking care of Noct, giving him everything he needed to succeed in life. Since his departure, paired with the fact that I've essentially been blinded, moving on has been a much bigger challenge than I anticipated. I can't fight the way I used to, Gladio and Prompto are terrified to have me on the battlefield with them, and let's not ignore all the small things I can't do anymore, like cook or drive. . . I-I don't even know where to begin to get myself back to where I was. If that's even possible."

The sudden honesty was not at all what Aranea expected. Listening to him vent took her by surprise and she felt her face soften in response. Sure, she had an inkling that Ignis was taking this hard, but she never imagined it was affecting him this much. He wasn't the type to wear his emotions boldly on his sleeve, so she just assumed he was dealing with everything rather internally. She sat down in a chair to the side of the bed, never once averting her gaze from him. She weighed carefully the word she was about to utter, knowing there was no going back after saying it. "Fine."

Ignis narrowed his eye, tilting his head to the side in confusion. "Beg your pardon?"

"I said 'fine'. You need help learning how to fight? I'll help you." A small smile pulled at the edges of Ignis' lips and she held a hand up, forgetting that he couldn't see her. "Don't get all excited just yet. I'm probably the shittiest teacher in the entire world because I have the worst patience, but I'll try my best. You deserve that much, I guess. Just remember, you owe me big. And don't think I don't collect."

He grasped foolishly at the best way to convey his thanks, but words eluded him. "I-I don't know what to say."

She stood up and rolled her eyes. "Don't get all soft on me, Four Eyes. Just meet me in the lobby tomorrow morning at 5 am. You still wake up before everyone else, don't you?"

He nodded once, paused, and then asked, "Aranea, a favor?"

She sighed melodramatically. "Are you kidding me? You want _another_ favor? After I just agreed to devote my cherished free time to sparring with you? This better be good, Specs."

He shifted uncomfortably, but still managed to chuckle quietly at her use of his old nickname. "I'd appreciate it if you could keep this agreement between us, at least for now. If Gladio and Prompto found out, I'd gauge to say they'd interfere and put an end to it, not out of maliciousness but more out of fear. So, just for the time being, I'd be grateful for the secrecy."

"Yeah, sure. Whatever. My lips are sealed," she agreed, crossing the room and opening the door. "Oh, just so you know, I found your cane and weapons and put them in your room by your bed. Also, I brought you into my room, you know, just in case Blondie and the Big Guy came back and saw you all passed out. You seem to be doing better now, so obviously, the Phoenix Down and elixir did the trick. You can save your thanks; I know I'm awesome."

"I'm incredibly indebted to you," he bowed his head and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. "if I may ask, how long was I out for?"

"Just a few hours, at most. Not that long." She leaned against the doorframe, annoyed. "Now, unless you're in the mood for a quick romp in the sack, since you're still lying in my bed and all, then hurry up and get out. I need to get my beauty rest."


	4. Back to Basics

**Back to Basics**

His finger was poised over his phone screen where he knew the big red 'STOP' button to appear when his alarm went off. It had to be nearing 4:30 am and Ignis didn't want to wake either of the other men in the hotel room, so he waited patiently for that first note to ring. By the time both men got home the night before, Ignis was tucked into bed with the covers pulled high to his face, feigning sleep. Neither one had any idea that he planned to sneak out to meet with Aranea for their first training session together and he wanted to keep it that way. If they woke up before he got back (which he highly doubted would happen with how frenzied their schedules had been lately), he would just say he went on a walk to clear his head. A little white lie never hurt anyone.

Through the darkness, Ignis could make out the faintest glow as the phone screen faded on, ready to sound the alarm. He heard the single note and quickly dismissed the nuisance before it droned on anymore. Freezing and listening for Prompto and Gladio's snores, he sighed a breath of relief when he realized the noise did little to disturb them. He cautiously peeled the covers back and kicked both feet over the side of the bed and onto the Berber carpet, yawning wide. He reached for his tinted glasses, normally kept at his bedside, but frowned when he remembered the fight with the hobgoblin and the loss of his glasses in the brawl. _No matter_ , he thought. They were mostly worn to keep the rude stares of others at bay and to have _something_ on his face as he had been used to wearing glasses his entire life. For now, he'd have to get over it.

Ignis carefully snuck to the bathroom, making sure to step over Prompto as he slept peacefully on a cot and a bundle of blankets between Gladio and Ignis' beds. The night before, he remembered to stash away a pair of dark jeans and his gray casual t-shirt into a bottom drawer under the bathroom sink so he wouldn't have to rifle through the drawers in their room to get dressed. This morning it seemed that every move he made, from donning his outfit, to brushing his teeth, even running a comb through his hair and styling it as he always did, felt like it was making a cacophony of noise. _I don't have to get ready with the lights on, so I have that slight advantage going for me._

Grabbing his cane and sheathing the daggers he failed to send away after yesterday's madness, he took a deep breath and reopened the bathroom door, taking his time slipping through the shadows, easing their hotel room door open and gently closing it behind him. Finally out, he moved through the hall with less stealth behind his steps and descended the stairs, taking a seat in the lounge area. He realized he was the first one downstairs, which wasn't a huge surprise. In all the years he'd been alive, Ignis never recalled an instance where he had been late to any engagement or appointment and this morning was no exception. He figured he'd wait patiently for Aranea to join him.

Outside it was eerily calm, a stark contrast to what he'd been used to lately—even up until the day before. Cor had been working tirelessly with Iris and Talcott to place the refugees in various rooms and shelters across Lestallum, but undoubtedly a new wave would come in soon enough and override the silence once more. It was inevitable.

A pair of chilled and slender hands covered his eyes lightheartedly, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine. "Guess who?" Aranea's voice teased.

He placed his hands on hers and pulled her fingers down. "Good morning, Aranea," he greeted as she slid away and sat across from him in a matching plush seat.

"Glad to see you're doing better this morning. Did you lose your glasses yesterday?" Ignis nodded and she hummed in thought. "Well, that sucks. I guess I'll see if I can keep an eye out for a new pair somewhere."

"Oh, that's unnecessary— "

She cut him off. "Shut up and just take the damn offer."

He wanted to disagree with her and argue that he could obtain his own glasses without her help, but thought better of it and nodded again. She reclined lazily in her chair, taking in the man before her. Ignis could practically hear the wheels turning in her head as she tried to find a way to insult him. "Before I say anything else, forgive me, but I have to ask: Why the hell did you find it necessary to style your hair this morning? And not even well done, I may add."

Yup. Nailed it.

Ignis cringed internally and forced himself not to run a hand self-consciously through his hair. He was starting to wonder if she just liked to see him squirm. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"Nothing at all, if you like the styled bed head look."

"Not that it's any of your business, but I happen to like my 'styled bed head' look. And you're quite rude if I do say so myself," he replied evenly.

"Is it rude if it's true?" Aranea sneered and rolled her eyes as he debated how to respond to her. "Ahhh, at ease, Four Eyes. It's called, 'get a sense of humor.'"

"My sense of humor is very much intact, thank you. I just fail to find _your_ words very comedic is all," he countered, going to push the phantom glasses up further on his nose but grumbled when he realized they weren't there.

She took notice of the oversight he made and snorted. "You're not very chipper today. Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the bed?" she badgered. He ignored her taunts, not giving her the satisfaction of seeing him bothered. After another minute of silence and Aranea growing bored, she clapped her hands to her knees in finality. "Alright, enough of this. Let's get going. We have some training to do. Are you able to follow me on your own, or do I need to personally escort you?"

Ignis rose to his feet, his cane in hand. "I can manage without assistance, for the most part," he confirmed. Although her hand was outstretched, poised to help, she immediately retracted it at his words and shrugged indifferently.

"Your choice. Come on, we don't have all day . . . err, night, rather."

They walked together into the balmy, night air. Aranea noticed she was farther ahead than intended, so she reduced her pace just enough to allow for Ignis to keep up as he started to fall behind. She feigned ignorance at his insistence that she needn't slow down for him, innocently lying that this was how slow she always walked and that he was being ridiculous.

Aranea had done her research prior and scoped out an empty lot behind some buildings, closer to the power plant toward the back of Lestallum. An abundance of artificial light shone on the area, making it near impossible for any daemons to come near them – a somewhat comforting thought. The heat from the lights made the area hotter than necessary.

They were both positioned in the middle of the cobblestoned quad, neither one sure of what to do next. Aranea broke the stillness first, pacing back and forth with her hand on her hip before Ignis. She seemed to be debating a thought in her head, finally acting on it by snatching his cane from his hand and pitching it to the side. Flabbergasted, Ignis started to protest but she interrupted him by talking over his complaints. He went quiet rather quick.

"First of all, before we do anything, you're going to have to learn to fight without relying on that stupid thing. I don't care what you do with it outside of our little sessions, but here you're going to have to learn to get along without it."

His eyebrows knitted together in sheer aggravation. "How on Eos do you expect me to get around in battles without it?"

"Oh, hush. You're not doing yourself any favors by holding on to that security blanket you call a cane," she said. "C'mon Ignis, you're not an idiot. You know there are plenty of other ways to ensure you're in the right place at the right time. It's not doing you any good to rely on your cane right now when you should be learning to fight without it. Plus, look at it this way: by always keeping one hand on it, you're limiting your movements and leaving yourself with only one hand to attack at any moment."

His posture subtly changed from a defensive one to one that conveyed slow acceptance of her words. "You have a point," he conceded.

"Duh, I know. And I honestly have faith that, with time, you can probably learn to get around in everyday life without it, too. But for now, let's just focus on getting you back to fighting the way you used to, alright?" She patted his arm firmly as he smiled softly at her. He felt her hand leave his arm and heard her boots click on the stone as she walked away to the other side of the square.

She turned around and faced her rival, suddenly very serious. "Alright Ignis," her voice carried over the space of the open area as she called out to him. "You're aware I'm not going to go easy on you, right?"

Ignis let a smirk grace his lips as he pulled his daggers from their sheath. "Quite frankly, my dear, I'd be insulted if you did."

"Cocky, aren't we?" She wordlessly called to her spear and it appeared within her hand in a blaze of red energy. "Sweetheart, you have _no_ idea."

With that, she hurdled across the lot, closing the distance between her and Ignis. She swiped her spear in a wide motion in front of her and, as she figured, was able to knock him to the ground without so much as a fight. She did a 180 and vaulted back toward him. He was a lot more aware this time around, blocking her blow and using the force behind her inertia to throw her up over his head in one smooth motion.

Aranea spiraled through the air and still managed to fall gracefully on her feet like some sort of cat. She didn't remain on the ground long, taking off high into the sky and preparing herself to dive back down to Eos. As she reached the pinnacle of her ascent, she kept her eye on Ignis and aimed to secure a blow beside him instead of on him. After all, she didn't want to kill the poor guy.

"Are you just going to stand there like an idiot or are you going to do something?" she yelled as began to rocket toward the ground. She hoped that by calling out to him, it would alert him in the general direction of her whereabouts. Her tactic worked and she saw him look up at her. His dagger whistled by her as he hurled it her way, close but barely missing her.

A shockwave of energy pulsated from her powerful crash landing and knocked Ignis forward onto his knees, caught off guard. The dagger clanked onto the stone nearby as it, too, fell back to Eos and Aranea walked over to kick it back his way. "Get up! I told you I wasn't going easy on you!"

Ignis felt within the vicinity of the where the dagger ended up and grabbed the hilt. He tried to run where he assumed she was, but he tripped and fell just a few steps into his run. Without his cane, he felt defenseless. Aranea was right—he was using it as a security blanket, but he desperately wished he had his security blanket now. He was frustrated that he couldn't throw his daggers accurately, run without help, or land any type of hit on his target. One successful defensive move wouldn't be enough to save his life against the ruthless daemons in the world. He stayed on the ground, his faith in himself waning.

Aranea recognized the discouragement in his body language and stormed over to him, prodding him harshly with the toe of her boot. He smacked her away. "How pathetic. I didn't take you for the type to give up so easily, and so quick, too. You really have changed, and I'm not talking about those scars on your face. The guy I remember would laugh in the face of a challenge, not run away. What was this? Just a huge waste of my time?"

Ignis blinked. What she was saying didn't make him angry or want to disagree. On the contrary, he felt the words light a fire inside him. His hands held the daggers just a little tighter and every muscle in his body tensed up. Was she seeing something in him that he was failing to see himself?

Her red lips, before pursed in impatience, now turned upwards smugly. "That's right. Get up. We're just getting started."

Ignis nodded, pulling himself up onto his feet while Aranea returned to where she was last standing. She waited until he was positioned and ready to go before resuming where they left off. She didn't find it necessary to ask if he was ready, instead just charging toward him unannounced and using the handle of her spear in an attempt to push him back. Surprisingly, he evaded her and executed a well-timed strike with his elbow to her upper back, almost knocking the wind out of her. It didn't cause her to fall, but she staggered a few steps forward and reached behind to rub where he hit her. She looked over her shoulder and defended herself from another capable hit.

"If that's all I needed to say to get your ass moving, I would have done it sooner," she said.

Back and forth they went, entangled in a battle of wits and blows. They exchanged hits and defended each other's attacks, Aranea more so than Ignis. Aranea continued to make more noise than usual, yelling and grunting, knowing Ignis would catch on and use her sounds to plan his next strike. Though Aranea threatened Ignis with giving it her all, she found herself toning down her more powerful hits, not too obvious but just enough. This wasn't supposed to be a game of 'who was the strongest of the two'. She was trying to help him learn to fight as he struggled without one of the most important senses any fighter can stand to lose. It wasn't her goal to knock the guy out on their first morning of practice and ruin any remaining self-confidence he had left.

From across the courtyard, Ignis threw both of his daggers in succession at Aranea. She managed to duck one but lost her balance when she saw the other one follow. She toppled onto her back, her head hitting the stone pavement. Ignis, not realizing she was now inhibited, swung around and kicked his leg out to knock her to the ground. Instead, he obviously missed and gracelessly tumbled to the ground. He expected to hit the cobblestone, but instead, he collided against Aranea, still lying on the ground where he unknowingly knocked her down.

His face burned with the heat of humiliation, suddenly feeling very vulnerable at their position. His face turned a shade darker—if that were even possible—when she seductively ran a finger across his collarbone, across his shoulder, and down his arm. "Ignis, I'd prefer it if a man took me out on a date before being so forward with me; but for you, I can make an exception," she cajoled before pulling her legs up under him, suddenly launching him away from her. He skidded painfully across the ground, coming to a rest across the lot.

Neither one could move anymore. Both were beyond spent. Ignis sat up, panting as he tried to catch his breath while Aranea remained immobile, sprawled out and waiting for her heart to stop racing. She took a deep breath and pulled herself to her feet, lethargically dragging herself over to Ignis and letting a hand rest on his shoulder. "I think I've kicked your ass enough this morning to warrant a break."

Ignis agreed, wiping the sweat that poured from his brow with the back of his hand. She gently helped him up and guided him to the wall where they both rested, legs pulled to their chests and arms languidly draped over their knees. They were sitting so close together that Ignis could feel the heat radiating from her body, yet he made no effort to move away. He found himself strangely enjoying the contact.

"You know, you've still got it," Aranea complimented, nudging him with her entire body. "I mean, you definitely need a lot of work and all, but at least you haven't lost your touch."

He tried not to let it show, but hearing that made him beam inside. "I appreciate that."

"Must have been all that fighting coming back from Gralea, huh?"

"I guess that played a large role in my ability to sustain my form, but I have been fighting for most of my life. It'll always be second nature."

"Hmm, true." She cracked her knuckles and looked at him. "I still can't believe you guys made it all the way back from Gralea in one piece. That must have been one crazy adventure."

"For lack of better words. It was intense, to say the least," he ruminated stoically. "Every town we came upon was infested with monsters. Most of the food supply and curatives were ravaged through by the time we arrived. Even when we found a safe haven to make camp and sleep, Gladio or Prompto would still remain on guard for any daemons lurking nearby. I don't believe we ever got a solid few hours of rest the entire way back to Lestallum. There were plenty of times we thought we would perish before making it to safety. It was a true test of survival."

Aranea's eyes were wide upon this revelation. The thought of having to travel that entire way, even without the plague of daemons, was a grueling concept in and of itself. She was suddenly in awe of the royal advisor sitting beside her. How they managed to survive and come out relatively unscathed did not go unnoticed by her. "That's . . . insane. Wow . . . I-I'm really glad you made it back."

He side-eyed her, surprised at her authenticity, and she faltered at his gaze. "Errr . . . not you, personally. Like, you in general, like you and your friends. But I mean, I'm glad _you're_ back, too! I didn't mean anything really by that. Sorry, just forget it."

Ignis laughed. "I didn't take it in any way other than how you meant it. My apologies, I just tend to forget that you have another side to you other than always being incredibly sarcastic. Not that that's in any way a negative thing. It's quite refreshing sometimes."

"Oh, well . . . thank you, I guess. You're not so bad yourself sometimes, especially when you loosen up and you're not so uptight. No, really, though; does anyone tell you how boring you tend to be?"

"I prefer 'disciplined' and 'pragmatic' as opposed to 'boring'."

"Ah, ok. Whatever helps you sleep at night," she said playfully. Her eyes cast themselves from Ignis up toward the hazy sky, urgently longing for the sun to return. "Man, I'd give anything to see a blue sky again," she thought out loud. She turned to Ignis dispiritedly. "You have no idea how bleak and ugly this world is now; how indescribably depressing its become. Honestly, as messed up as it is, you're kinda lucky that you don't have to witness it."

"I'm lucky because I can't see? Well, now I've heard it all," he joked.

She laughed. "No, no. I don't mean it like that. I just . . . I don't know. I've always loved the night. For as long as I can remember, it was always my favorite time of the day. I felt alive and free when the sun went down; it's when I thrive. I think I may have said at one point that I wish it could stay night forever. I never thought that wish would come true, you know? And now with the daemons roaming Eos and we're basically living the out the end of the world . . . I wish I could take those words back now."

"I suppose you never know what you have until it's gone."

"You've got that right," she agreed. Silence befell them and Aranea picked at the dirt under her fingernails. Curiosity got the better of her and she quietly inquired, "So, what happened to you? With . . . you know . . ."

Suddenly, he couldn't breathe. It felt like hands were wrapped around his neck, choking him. Ignis knew she was referring to his injuries. He struggled to keep his face forward, almost wishing she hadn't asked. He didn't want to relive that horrific day by speaking of the events out loud. It was still too painful for him. Even though a fair amount of time had passed since the incident, there were still many nights that Ignis jolted awake in the middle of the night, writhing in a cold sweat from the realistic night terrors that plagued him. There was no use anymore in denying the effect that day had on him, but it didn't mean he wanted to talk about it. He wanted to keep that compartmentalized and locked away in the back of his mind forever.

"It was Ardyn, wasn't it?" she guessed. When Ignis didn't acknowledge her, she shook her head in disgust. "That bastard."

He brought his head back against the brick wall, his face tilted upwards and his right eye closed, wishing away the excruciating memories. Aranea found the overwhelming urge to comfort him by leaning against him, wanting to dispel the anguished expression on his face. Instead, she hugged her arms around her legs and placed her chin on her knees. They stayed that way for a while, losing track of the time in the comfortable peace.

Aranea stole a peek at her phone and stretched her hands up high. "Well Specs, I think we should probably head back. I have paperwork to rifle through and Cor's ridiculous discourse to listen to. Plus, I think your friends will probably wonder what you're up to."

"What time is it?" he asked, overlooking her obvious snub at the Marshal.

"Close to 8:30." She rose to her feet, her legs asleep from being held close to her body for far too long. "Here, give me your hand. I'll help you up."

Ignis willingly held his hand up and enclosed it around hers. She only struggled briefly against him before he was towering above her. Their hands held on to each other's for a second longer and Aranea felt that familiar heat and rush of emotions hit her. It was the same feeling she got back when she camped with the men and Ignis handed her the plate of food; the same feeling when he once looked her straight in the eyes and smiled so radiantly at her.

She yanked her hand back and avoided having to look at his face, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. Ignis either didn't notice or just pretended to not care at the sudden change in her attitude. "Would you be so kind as to get my cane for me? I would, but we may be here all morning if left to my own devices," he politely requested.

"Oh." She scanned the lot and found the cane discarded right where she tossed it when they first got to the lot. She shoved it into his hands and went back to folding her arms in front of her. On Shiva's grave, Aranea had never felt more awkward or shy in her entire life. _What the hell is wrong with me?_ she chided herself

"Shall we head back? I would hate for a lady to walk back alone in these dark times, even if she far outmatches me in battle."

Aranea hedged around the decision before relenting, her arms falling to her side. "Do I really have a choice?"

Ignis smiled over his shoulder as he stepped away. "I'm afraid not."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so excited seeing everyone bookmark/subscribe/comment on this. Please don't continue to lurk and feel free to reach out to let me know how you like the story so far! :) Thank you for your continued support!


	5. To Hammerhead

**To Hammerhead**

Over the next couple of weeks, Ignis and Aranea met in secret a handful more times to continue their practice. Aranea pushed Ignis harder than he'd ever been pushed before and, in return, he kept her on her toes with what he could pick up on and retain. It wasn't that she was shocked—she was well aware of how incredibly sharp he was and it was foolish to consider he'd have any difficulty —but she couldn't help but stand back and watch in awe as she began to see his skepticism and fear in himself give way to the confidence and coolness he previously so effortlessly exuded.

One day, Ignis came downstairs—as he did every other time before their sessions — and waited longer than he normally would have for anyone running late before he realized Aranea wasn't going to show up. He did the same thing the following morning and then again the morning after that. Confused and a little perturbed that she'd leave him alone without so much an explanation, he casually brought up Aranea's disappearance to both Gladio and Prompto in passing, only to learn that she had been sent out on a mission close to Cape Caem and wouldn't be back for a while. Something about more daemons and survivors and having to leave immediately.

Without knowing how long Aranea would be absent for, and with Gladio and Prompto away more often than not, Ignis took to working on himself by focusing on his mobility around the hotel and the town itself. Aranea's little speech on their first day together had inspired him to attempt to get by without his cane, so little by little he'd leave it behind.

He started small by navigating around the hotel room. It was pretty simple once he had the layout of the room and its nuances memorized. Dining room table in the corner, two beds against the wall facing the TV and entertainment center, Prompto's pile of blankets and pillows between the beds, attached kitchen here, bathroom there. Easy enough. He'd just have to be careful to ensure that nothing changed dramatically or he ran the risk of bumping into something.

On the days that he wasn't teaching himself to get by without help, he was knocking out rounds of pushups, sit-ups, and planks. He wanted to show Aranea that he took their drills together seriously— that is, whenever she returned. When he reached 100 reps of either pushups or sit-ups, he'd restart with 100 more. Planks were barely a challenge, but the routine was the only thing keeping him sane right now amidst the utter loneliness he felt.

One evening, in the middle of yet another round of pushups, the door opened and Gladio's imposing figure leaned against the frame. "Busy?"

Ignis grunted. He counted out several more pushups and lowered his body to the ground, his arms and chest numb from the effort he put forth. Gladio continued into the room, pulling a chair up next to Ignis and sitting with his chest resting against the back. "Well, if you're done, I wanted to let you know that Talcott and I are headed over to Hammerhead for a day or so. Cindy has some new daemon-repellent headlights and said she wouldn't mind installing them in some of our convoy vehicles. Thought I'd extend an invite."

Ignis' forehead rested on the backs of his hands, overlaid one on top of the other below his face. He turned his head to the right toward Gladio. "Give me a few minutes to shower?" he requested between labored breaths.

"Take your time. We still have to gas up the truck and get our supplies packed up, just in case we run into any monsters along the way," Gladio informed, standing up and pushing the chair back against the wall where he grabbed it from. "I'll be downstairs, but let me know when you're ready and I'll come back up and get you."

Ignis discreetly rolled his eye, annoyed that Gladio insisted on treating him like he was some fragile and delicate child. With his upper body completely sapped of any feeling, he laid for a few more minutes on the coarse carpet alone before struggling to get up, practically dragging his way to the bathroom to shower off. Once out and with a towel secured around his waist, he ran a razor over the growing stubble on his face, brushed his teeth for the second time that day, styled his hair (but damn if Aranea's teasing his choice in hair style didn't still taunt him in the back of his mind), and moved slowly back into the room, running his hand along the wall until he reached his closet. His hands fingered the fabric of his clothes and he was able to identify and pull his usual dark leopard print shirt from its hanger. From there, he took a few careful steps over to a nearby dresser and found his dark slacks and a pair of socks and underwear.

Dressed and ready to go, Ignis grabbed his cane from his bedside and locked up the room, making his way to the downstairs lobby. As he reached the bottom of the stairs, he rolled his sleeves up to his elbows but stopped midway when he heard Gladio clear his throat. "I told you to yell for me when you were ready."

"A bit unnecessary, don't you think?" he mumbled as he finished rolling up his sleeves.

Gladio hummed his displeasure. "Uh-huh. And did you forget your glasses? You've never gone anywhere without them. Come to think of it, I haven't seen you with a pair in a while."

Ignis froze. His hands went unwittingly to his face as if he, too, was shocked at the missing spectacles. "Oh, yes. I must have lost them while I was out. Silly me," he conjured up the pathetic lie on the spot.

"When was the last time _you_ of all people lost _anything_?"

"I suppose there's a first time for everything."

Gladio narrowed his eyes, seeing right through the fib, but allowed Ignis this win. He sighed in defeat, draping his arm over his friend's shoulders and leading him outside and away to where their vehicle was parked. At first, the air between them was tense, but eventually, they made small talk, falling back into comfortable territory with each other. For a moment, both found themselves forgetting that anything was ever wrong in the world. It felt like old times again, back when they lived in Insomnia.

Their joyful trip down memory lane ended abruptly when Talcott's meek voice called their names. Gladio removed his arm from Ignis' shoulders and walked ahead with Ignis trying to follow by listening to the sound of his footsteps. He was trying to take some of Aranea's suggestions and advice from their trysts and apply them to his everyday life, starting with actually listening and taking cues from the subtle noises around him. One day, he wanted to be able to get by without using his cane. Was it going to be hard? Probably, but something about Aranea saying he could do it almost made it seem like it could be a reality.

"Gladio! Ignis! Thanks for letting me come with you guys to Hammerhead. I'm really excited!"

Gladio smiled, ruffling the pre-teen's hair. "No problem, big guy. Cor said you've really taken a liking to cars and machinery. Figured this would be a good opportunity for you to learn a thing or two."

"Awww, I hope. I promise I won't get in the way or anything!"

They all piled into the armored truck and Gladio brought it to life with the turn of a key. He carefully drove to the front gate where Prompto was standing guard, gun in hand in case any daemons decided to get bold and rush the city. The car occupants laughed as Prompto whined and stomped his feet when he learned that they were headed to see Cindy, his longtime infatuation.

"Don't worry, Prom! We'll tell her you said hi. I'll make sure to keep her company for you," Gladio winked and gave a thumbs-up.

"Not cool, bro. Not cool!" he decried, looking heartbroken as he pressed a button on a control panel and opened the gate for them. They all waved goodbye as Gladio drove away.

Ignis had his hands in his lap and kept his gaze forward. It wasn't typical for Gladio to take the wheel and Ignis found the concept to be absolutely horrifying. Relinquishing control to Noctis when they drove around Lucis was one thing; Gladio was a completely different animal to drive with. At least Ignis had the foresight to buckle up now, unlike when he used to drive and the other three would snub the use of seat belts, choosing instead to monkey around by standing and sitting on the hood while the top was down and turning around to face the backseat and . . .

Gladio's voice brought him back to reality. "So . . . Iggy. Thanks for coming. I uh . . . you know I'm not good with this whole feelings bullshit, but I really appreciate you agreeing to come with."

Ignis was confused. "Of course. Why wouldn't I?"

"Oh well, you know. With how things have been lately between us and how busy we've all gotten, it's just nice to be able to go on a mission somewhere together again, even if it's something as tiny as placing new daemon-repellent bulbs in our cars."

Ignis waved away the sound of culpability that accompanied Gladio's words. "Yes, these times haven't been the kindest toward us these last couple of months. I do understand, though, the pressure we're all under and just what is expected of us. Of you. I don't hold any of that against you, I hope you're aware."

"It still doesn't make it any easier," the large man sighed, swerving to avoid a rogue Thunder Bomb daemon on the side of the road. Talcott, still somewhat naïve to the dangers around them, let out a thrilled 'woohoo' from the backseat while Ignis' hand flew to the grab handle above the window to save himself from flying across the front seat. Gladio muttered an apology under his breath.

Ignis knew that wasn't all that was on Gladio's mind and he waited for the truth to spill. As suspected, he heard another forceful breath and the sound of Gladio's grip rubbing steering wheel. "Cor wants to take Iris and train her to hunt daemons."

That disclosure didn't shock Ignis at all. Iris was an Amicitia and her brother's sister for sure. The need to fight and protect ran deep in her blood, as it had throughout their entire lineage back to the beginnings of their ancestry. She was never the girl to sit back and passively let the world fly by around her and Cor knew this. It was only a matter of time before he took her under his wing. Despite how strong and capable Cor was, it probably didn't do anything to deter the stress that this put on Gladio. Ignis turned slightly to indicate he was listening.

"She's the only family I have left. I'm not sure I could go on if anything happened to her, you know? I . . . I was practically on my knees begging Cor to leave her alone. How pathetic, right? Then Iris found out and she said she was going anyway and there was nothing I could say to change her mind. I've . . . I've never seen her look so determined about anything in her life. But . . . Goddamn . . . what if something happens to her?"

"Gladio, you know you can't protect her forever."

He let out a small laugh. "Can't I at least try?"

"You can, but I doubt it'll get you far. Trust her. Trust that she's making the right decision for herself and her life. She's always been capable of handling herself and I don't think she'd even entertain the notion of becoming a daemon slayer if she didn't think she could do it. Whether she's your only surviving family or not, you can't hold on to her forever. Sooner or later, you have to let go and learn to trust."

Another laugh. "Are we still talking about Iris? Or are you subconsciously talking about yourself?"

It hadn't crossed Ignis' mind to lump himself into someone that Gladio needed to let go of, but it made sense. It seemed that it made sense to Gladio as well. Ignis tried to ignore the comment, but the words were already out there and they knew them to be true. The larger man shifted in his seat and changed his hand position on the steering wheel, nimbly avoiding another daemon as it swiped at their car.

"Now that we're on the subject of you, I've noticed you've been getting up and leaving in the mornings. Something going on that you want to talk about?"

Gladio wasn't beating around the bush today with his questions. Ignis faced the window, blankly staring into the dark abyss. "Just going on a walk. Nothing to fret over."

"Mmhmm. At 5 am? Alone?" He slowed at an intersection before turning onto another road. "What's the real story?"

"If there was a real story, don't you think I'd tell you?"

"No, but then again, the three of us haven't exactly been close these days," Gladio sadly remarked, bringing Prompto into the conversation.

"It's nothing more than a morning stroll in the city," Ignis lied again, his body language and voice remaining even and calm. He could be a great liar when he wanted to be. Right now, he wasn't ready to divulge any information about Aranea teaching him to fight. In time, maybe. But not now. It was still a fear, albeit a small one, that Gladio would ask him to stop so he could continue to stay out of harm's way.

"Whatever you say, Iggy," he replied, shaking his head and dropping the subject as he slowed again. The sound of a chain-link fence clanking just outside their vehicle let Ignis know they'd arrived at Hammerhead. Gladio drove through the gate and parked in front of the Hammerhead garage where Cindy waved them in eagerly.

"Well, ain't you boys a sight for sore eyes. Long time since I've seen the likes of you. Paw-Paw said ya'll'd be here to get these new headlights put in. If these work the way they're supposed to, maybe we can get them installed in the rest of the trucks. Sure would make driving around from town to town a lot easier," she drawled in her sweet accent.

"We really appreciate all the help, Cindy."

"Aw, anything for my favorite boys. Go ahead and pull into the garage and make yourselves at home in the caravan. I can't promise I'll get this done today, but I'll work as quick as I can."

Gladio did as instructed and drove into the bay of the garage, parking and unlocking the doors so they could all get out and stretch their legs. The drive wasn't long at all, but just knowing there was danger lurking everywhere now kept everyone on edge. The constant tension wasn't exactly doing wonders for their muscles.

"And who's this handsome devil?" Cindy cooed as Talcott jumped out from the backseat. He held a hand out and she reciprocated, shaking it firmly.

"This is Talcott, my family's butler's grandson. I asked him to come along since he's developed quite the interest in machinery lately; if that's alright with you?"

The blonde woman squealed with delight. "Of course it is! Who am I to turn down a hand in the shop? I know I can find plenty to keep him occupied."

Talcott couldn't contain his excitement. His head whipped back and forth from Gladio to Cindy and even to Ignis before getting the affirmative nod from Gladio to follow after Cindy. The two men listened and watched with amusement as Talcott eagerly rambled about everything he wanted to learn and everything he already knew. Cindy was enthralled at his enthusiasm.

Gladio placed his hand under Ignis' elbow and led him to the rickety caravan on the other side of the gated compound. They entered and attempted to get settled, but something about it just being the two of them without Noctis and Prompto alongside made the caravan feel empty. Desolate. It didn't feel right at all.

Gladio tried to fill the void with conversation as he searched the cabinets and fridge for any leftover food or drinks. He found two lone beers and offered one to Ignis, but he held a hand up to deny it. The large man shrugged and took both for himself. He cracked open the first one and sat in the built-in dinette booth, kicking his feet up on a nearby spare ottoman and taking a swig of the chilled beverage. "He really needs this distraction, Talcott does. Hopefully, this will boost his spirits."

Ignis rested his arms on the table of the dinette table, leaning forward as he spoke. "Agreed. He has been through far more than any child his age should ever go through. It's a shame that he loses out on any innocence of a childhood."

"This coming from the man who had to grow up at the age of . . . what was it? Four? Five?" Gladio raised his bottle in Ignis' direction and let out a sarcastic laugh.

"Growing up was on my own accord. I never abhorred my duties to the Prince. In fact, I fully relished all those years taking care of his Highness."

"And there wasn't a day that went by where you shirked your responsibilities. You made taking care of Noct your entire life."

"Only doing what was asked of me."

"And you did it well," Gladio reassured. He lowered his head and abstractedly clenched and unclenched his fist. "It was so frustrating to me that he listened to you with no fuss, but when I tried to reason with him on anything, it was as if the sky was going to collapse on him."

Ignis chucked at Gladio's false impressions that guiding Noct through life was some easy feat. "We had our moments. Noct wasn't always impressed with me or my orders. Stubborn to a fault. It drove me mad some days, but I reasoned it had more to do with his emotions around the King growing weaker from the Ring of Lucii rather than anything to do with me."

"Yeah, that was especially hard on him," Gladio nodded, chugging the last of his beer and opening the second one. "You know, speaking of difficulties, Prompto's not taking Noct's absence well. Between that, the lack of sleep, and just the overall shift in the world, that kid is one step away from a full-blown breakdown."

"Given the circumstances, I'm not surprised. Prompto is a . . . sensitive man, to be frank. With his best friend missing, I'm sure he also feels somewhat abandoned; not that he blames Noct by any means, but it's an emotion one can't help. His façade will only last for so long before it cracks."

Gladio's mouth formed a grim line as he drummed his fingers on the table and flicked a glance out the window. Ominous clouds floated across the sky, obscuring the moon from view while a breeze rustled the sparse brush of the desert and could be heard sweeping the sides of the caravan. It was a soothing sound that threatened to lull the men to sleep.

With that, Ignis yawned and Gladio followed suit. They wanted to retire to bed but decided to stay awake until Talcott came to the caravan. Until then, they passed the time with stories of years ago and better times. Anything to take them away from this living hell.

* * *

"Alright fellas! She's as good as new. Headlights are installed and I gave her a good washin' for the road. Sorry it took so long," Cindy apologized again for the hundredth time. Getting the headlights in the vehicle and working took a couple of days, but the three men didn't mind. Talcott was even a little sad to leave, having learned so much in such a short amount of time.

"We are grateful for your help, Cindy. If there's any way we can repay you-." Ignis began but was cut off when Cindy jumped at something that came to mind.

"Yes! You can do something for me! I'm sorry, but I have all these ingredients for different meals taking up room at Takka's restaurant. I know you boys were really into cooking, especially you," Cindy pointed to Ignis, "and I was hoping you'd get more use out of taking the food back to Lestallum instead of letting it rot here."

Ignis shifted his weight from one foot to the other. "How kind, but I . . . I actually don't-."

"Yes, we'll take it," Gladio interjected, his hand reaching out to cover Ignis' mouth, stopping him from speaking further. "Load whatever you don't want into the trunk. We'll find a use for it."

As Cindy thanked them profusely and ran off to grab the food from Takka's restaurant, Ignis shot his friend a glare. "You know I don't cook anymore."

"No, but the rest of us can still try. You can still try. It's not outside the realm of possibility for you to cook small dishes."

"It's ok for me to scorch dinner and waste food, but Gods forbid I come out and daemon slay with you?"

Gladio grunted and crossed his arms. "Apples to oranges, Iggy, and you know it."

Cindy stopped the brewing argument by reappearing with two large coolers full of food. "Someone wanna gimme a hand getting these into the trunk? They're a little on the heavier side."

Gladio, Ignis, and Talcott all rushed to grab the handles of the coolers. Cindy wasn't kidding—she packed these coolers to the brim a variety of items. Once loaded, they slammed the trunk shut and dusted their hands of the grime and gunk from the handles, turning once more to the blonde mechanic before them.

"Y'all be careful heading back. I'll call you if I need you and I hope you do the same. Oh, and . . ." she trailed off, fidgeting nervously with the brim of her hat. "Tell Prompto I said hey, will ya? I missed seeing his smiling face 'round here. Lord knows we could use some sunshine these days and he's about as close to sunshine as we can get," she glowed as she spoke so highly of the gunslinger.

Ignis could clearly hear the adoration in her voice. "We will. You take care, Cindy, until we meet again."

They all exchanged brief hugs and handshakes before climbing into the vehicle. The truck's engine roared loudly and the new headlights allowed them to see farther than ever before. Already the lights were a welcome change from what they were accustomed to until that point. Another round of goodbyes and Gladio pulled forward to the chain-linked gate, waited for it to open, and drove onto the open road back to Lestallum.

The car ride was quieter this time than it was before. Everyone was just ready to get home to the city where everything seemed a little safer. Before they knew it, they were parked before the gates of Lestallum, waiting for Prompto—on his third consecutive shift of guard duty—to open it up for them. When he appeared, the large dark circles under his eyes and the lack of any cleanliness to him told them he was severely sleep-deprived and running on fumes.

"Only a few more hours and I'm off. I'll be up in a bit to shower and sleep," he wearily said, stifling a yawn with the back of his hand.

"Keep your head up. Oh, hey! Will it make you feel better to know that Cindy personally asked that we tell you she said hi?" Gladio probed.

As expected, Prompto immediately perked up, any semblance of fatigue wiped from his face. "She did? What did she say? Did she say she missed me? That beautiful, beautiful woman . . ." he fired off questions rapidly but drifted off into a dream-like state as his thoughts turned to the woman he so plainly placed on a pedestal.

Ignis couldn't help but laugh. Their conversation didn't last much longer and Prompto, after running through all his questions, waved them through to the parking lot. Together, Ignis, Gladio, and Talcott grabbed their belonging and the two coolers and walked the, what felt like, abnormally far distance back to the Levelle.

They dropped Talcott off at his room, waiting until he was inside and the door locked before taking their haul to their room. Gladio awkwardly balanced the belongings on top of his gigantic cooler pinned between his arm and hip as he fumbled to unlock and open their hotel room door. A ' _click´_ alerted them to his success.

Ignis pushed the door open with his backside and crossed inside, dropping the cooler loudly in the kitchen. Normally one to clean up and put things in their proper home as soon as possible, Ignis reasoned that there would be enough time in the morning to unpack. He was far too drained tonight and there was no sense in rushing to get everything put away when the ample ice would do its job at keeping the food chilled in the meantime.

He eased himself onto his bed, glad to be back within the confines of their room. He didn't think he'd miss the hotel bed he'd grown to call his own, but anything was better than the springy, tiny, uncomfortable bunk he slept on in the caravan at Hammerhead. He sighed and rested his head on his hands.

The sound of Gladio's hesitant footsteps drew Ignis' attention back to the doorway. "What's wrong?"

"There's . . . something here for you. It was outside our door. A package?" he wondered, placing a box in Ignis' lap and setting his cooler next to Ignis' in the small kitchen.

Ignis lifted the box, twirling and spinning it curiously in his hands. "Who's it from?"

"It doesn't say. The note that came with it only says, 'I told you I'd keep an eye out for these. Your IOU just keeps growing."

_Aranea?_

Ignis felt for the seam and politely tore the package open, careful not to cause any undue rips lest they needed the box again sometime soon. He reached inside and his fingers touched on three pairs of new glasses. The style seemed to be different than what he was used to wearing, less rectangular in the frame and more visor-like, but the fact that Aranea remembered him while away made him grin so wide that his cheeks started to hurt.

"Oh, wow. Those are nice. Do you have any idea who got them for you?"

Ignis took a pair out and tried them on. What he wouldn't give to see how they looked on him. It was funny how, in this moment, he wanted nothing more than to see what Aranea thought of them. Not that her opinion mattered all that much, but the thought of wearing them the next time he saw her gave him a renewed sense of delight.

Gladio snorted as he watched the royal advisor marvel at his new glasses. "Hmph. Well, judging by that ridiculous smile on your face, you must think highly of whoever it is."

Ignis took the glasses off and placed them on the nightstand while he placed the rest of the ones in the package in the drawer underneath. The smile was replaced with a tolerant stare. "Come now, Gladio. She's just an ally in these dark times."

"Oh, _she_ , hmm?"

Ignis blushed at this sudden revelation. "Stop. It's nothing."

He felt Gladio's large hand slap him on the back as he passed by to his own bed. "From where I'm standing, it sure doesn't _look_ like nothing."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I realize there was a lack in IgnisxAranea, but I promise this chapter has set up for plenty more fluff and interaction between the two next chapter :) These two are too cute for their own good.
> 
> As always, I love you guys and your reviews/favorites/follows. I love knowing what you all enjoyed and what your favorite moments are. Please keep the feedback coming because more feedback from you means more motivation for me!


	6. Dinner for Two

**Water Under the Bridge  
Dinner for Two**

Aranea asked for a day to recuperate from her mission, but Ignis recommended she take a few more after being gone for so long. There was a tinge of relief in her voice when he suggested this and she took him up on the offer, falling radio-silent through the rest of the week. He waited patiently for some sort of message or signal from her to let him know when she was ready. When she finally did give the go-ahead, he made sure he was downstairs, seated in his typical chair, and ready to go at their usual time.

From behind, he heard the clicking of heeled boots as they descended the stairs and crossed the tiled lobby. They stopped right beside him and he knew Aranea was looking down at him, studying him intently for whatever reason. He shuddered unexpectedly as her hand ran through his coifed hair. "Nice specs, Specs. Did you miss me?"

Why did she always have to be so flirtatious?

He turned his face to look up at hers as she continued to play with his hair—for whatever reason, he didn't know. The sound of her voice was familiar, but the length of time since he'd last heard her made it sound so foreign all the same. Still, having her back brought a weird sort of peace within himself and he found a weight he didn't know was there lifted off his shoulders.

"Yes, I suppose I have you to thank for these?" he guessed while pointing to his glasses, though the answer was evident. She kept playing with his hair and he tried not to let on how utterly relaxing it felt to have her hand so casually in his locks. A second later she stopped, flopping into the chair across from him, a quiet _'oomph'_ escaping her lips.

"It was nothing," she huffed, obviously a little more than shy that he was trying to thank her for her thoughtful gesture. She redirected the subject back to him, gesturing towards him with her hand. "I see you didn't do much to change your hair while I was gone. Still going for the cockatiel look?"

"Ah, deflection." He adjusted his glasses with a sense of superiority. "A wonderful defense tactic when you feel particularly cornered or outmaneuvered. Or, in your case, flustered when called out on doing something nice for someone else, for once."

Aranea balked at his definition. "I'm not deflecting anything." Her voice had gone up several pitches.

"You're a terrible liar."

"Or you're just reading too much into things," she spat, avoiding his blank gaze and anxiously drumming her fingers on the armrest. With every passing second of silence, she became more and more enraged. "What's with the psychoanalysis? Are we going or not?"

At her words, Ignis slowly stood up and grabbed his cane. He was getting better about not using it when in the room or when he stayed close to the Levelle, but he still had a long way to go. He gestured to the door, bowing his head. "After you."

Aranea shoved past him, leading the way by walking only a few steps ahead as they plodded to the empty lot. When they arrived, she moved to the far end of the square, leaving Ignis alone on the other side. "Cutting right to the chase?" he called out, placing his cane against the wall of a long-abandoned building and tentatively walking to what he assumed to be the middle of the lot. As he walked, his lance apparated in a blue haze within his hand.

"While I've missed these sparring sessions, my mind is already reveling at the thought of a huge pot of coffee or a nap. I haven't decided yet. So, if you don't mind, yes, I'm 'cutting to the chase'."

He closed his eye and acquiesced. "You're the boss."

When he didn't hear her move, he took that as his cue to launch forward, boldly attempting several times to lash out at her with his weapon, but only succeeded at swinging at air. She anticipated his moved and evaded every single one, taking a step to the side and striking his back with the butt of her spear while kicking his legs out from under him at the same time. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"

He groaned and coughed, leaning on one knee and shaking his head. She rolled her eyes and nudged him with the toe of her boot. "You can't hit me head on when you're as slow as you are and your reflexes suck. We talked about this before."

He grunted and leaned his forearm on his knee in an attempt to push himself onto his feet. "I thought— "

"Well, Four Eyes, you thought wrong. I mean, if you _want_ to try and hit me head on, be my guest, but I'm not sure what good it'll do you. Try your hand at throwing your lance instead of using it to physically hit someone. It's all a matter of paying attention— "

"To your surroundings. I know." Ignis finished her sentence, finally back on his feet and slightly leaning on his weapon. His back ached from the blow he received, but he did well to hide it from his challenger. The last thing he needed was for her to see he was already in pain two seconds into their scuffle.

"Awww, there you go! See, you're learning! It's about damn time!" Her words were dripping with sarcasm and it took everything in Ignis not to whip around and throw another attack her way. God, she could be so aggravating. Instead, he grudgingly limped away to follow her advice. Throwing his weapon surely seemed like the best option and, as another advantage, it would keep him out of the chaos of danger, should it ever come to that. But then it came down to making sure his aim was on point. Like everything, he knew it would be just a matter of practice.

Aranea cackled when he reached a certain distance, knowing he was seething inside the more she pestered him. Outwardly, he appeared calm, cool, and collected; inside, however, she knew a storm was beginning to rage. While her guard was down, she failed to notice that Ignis was already poised and ready, his arm cocked back as he prepared to throw his lance. He focused on her laughter and, with all his might, hurled the weapon in the general direction of the sound.

A shriek, and silence. The lance clinked and noisily bobbled on the stone before settling just behind the Commodore. Her eyes narrowed, a flame lit inside them. She whirled around to see the weapon and then whirled back to glare at Ignis. "Hey! I wasn't ready!"

"A real fighter never lets her guard down against her adversary." Ignis' sounded a lot more upbeat this time around, proud that he managed to stun her with the simplest of attacks.

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't consider someone who can't see a real threat."

"Says the woman who whined that she wasn't ready."

"Alright, now you're getting cocky."

He recalled his lance from the ground back to his grasp, ready to rethrow it at any given moment. "Then let's fight."

He could tell that Aranea was cranky, hangry, tired, and pissed that she was not the one in control right now. He knew it drove her mad. Unlike before when he rushed at her, this time he waited for her to come to him. Like he thought, she did just that. In a flash, she appeared in front of him. They engaged in weapon-on-weapon combat before they fell back and Ignis threw his lance over and over, constantly recalling it back to him. He missed more often than not, but there were several times where Aranea practically felt the blade of the weapon whistle by her ear, graze the skin of her arm, or zip by her thigh. She wasn't sure if he was just getting lucky or what, but damn his aim was better than it had been just weeks before.

This back and forth went on for what felt like forever. One minute, she'd be right behind him to pin him to the ground, the next he'd be aiming for her, judging by her sounds. When they'd return to physical blows, Aranea would fight to avoid getting pushed to the ground. She had the upper hand as he was still somewhat clumsy and graceless in his movements, but where he lacked in that, he made up for in strength. Most of the fight, however, was spent allowing Ignis to hone his aiming skills at her. He'd need practice, without a doubt—maybe something they'd work on next time—but he was getting the hang of it.

An hour passed, or maybe a little more before Aranea called for a truce. By this point, they both slowed considerably. It wasn't as if they fought with all they had during these sessions, but even the smallest amount of effort over the course of time would drain even the strongest of warriors.

"Nice work today, Specs. Been practicing while I was gone?" she panted as she struggled to her feet, hunching over and resting her hands on her knees as she tried to catch her breath.

"It's hard to practice alone, but I have been keeping up with my strength and fitness," he admitted, also breathless, dismissing the lance with the flick of his wrist. His hair, clumped together with sweat, clung to his face and he calmly brushed away his bangs. His shirt stuck to his chest and he unsuccessfully tried to pull it away from his body. Little good that did when, as soon as he let go, it went right back to clinging to his skin. Already, he was excited at the prospect of going back to the room to shower off all the sweat and filth from his body.

"Heh, well it definitely shows. You're still no match—"Aranea suddenly bent over and crossed her arms over her stomach, wincing. Her stomach growled angrily. "Well, that's what I get for being active on an empty stomach. You know, I don't know what Cor was thinking, putting me up in a room with no real kitchen. I haven't had a real meal in ages. Kinda sad, actually," she grumbled as another wave of hunger pangs shot through her stomach, so loud that even Ignis heard it.

He frowned, his inner-caretaker upset that she was starving. "Aranea, if you'd like, we received some ingredients for meals from Hammerhead while you were away. I would be more than happy to allow you the use of our kitchenette if you'd like to cook yourself something," he offered. "Gladio and Prompto are on duty tonight, so you're more than welcome to come over when you're ready."

Aranea bundled her hair into her hand and held it up on top of her head, allowing the sticky air access to the nape of her neck in a feeble attempt to cool off. She fanned herself with her other hand and mulled the proposal over. "Well, you do owe me for my time and for those glasses of yours . . ." she hemmed and hawed and then shrugged. "Yeah, sure, why the hell not. I'll be over tonight. You'll help, right?"

Ignis held his hands up defensively. "Oh, no. I don't . . . I haven't cooked since my injury. It's just not feasible with my condition."

He heard her grumble and readied himself for a barrage of 'tough love'. "I swear, Ignis . . . would you stop with the excuses and the pity party? For God's sake, you're blind, not bedridden or crippled, so stop acting like it."

Her words shocked him, really. How was it that Gladio— his longtime friend and the man who knew more about him than he knew of himself— was terrified of Ignis' handicap and the limitations it caused, but Aranea—a woman he'd only really gotten to know over the last few months— only saw it as a simple roadblock that was easily surpassable with some effort and hard work? Both sides pulled at him and waged a war inside of him. Who was right?

She repeated her question. "So tonight? You'll help me with dinner? Don't make me cook alone. I promise I'll burn the place down if I'm left unattended."

_Say no. You can't do this. How can you really cook without visually seeing the measurements, the food you're preparing, or how done everything is? You'll just mess it up. She has no idea what she's asking for. It's a disaster waiting to happen._

He tried to force a smile, but all he could muster was a grimaced look. "Sounds good. Tonight."

_Great job, idiot._

* * *

 

Ignis showered for the second time that day and now stood, doubtful, in front of the bathroom vanity, water dripping from his hair. His palms were pressed against the vanity surface and in his head, he saw himself staring back from the mirror. Normally, he would style his hair as he always did without a second thought, but once again he remained fixated on Aranea's mockery of him.

_My hair looks fine. It does not make me look like a cockatiel. Does it?_ he wondered, fluffing his own hair insecurely. He couldn't believe he was letting Aranea's criticism get to him. What was it about that woman that caused him to feel . . . different? She certainly had a weird hold on him. He couldn't quite put his finger on what it was that he felt, but thinking about it confused him, so he hardly dwelled on it for long. Anyway, if he had to guess what he felt, he'd say he was just glad to have someone who was willing to help him out with everything.

Yeah, that was it. That had to be it.

Taking a deep breath, unnecessarily nervous about changing his hairstyle (though he'd forever deny it had anything to do with what Aranea thought about it), he reached for the gel and ran it through his hair, ruffling it a bit before brushing it back with a comb. He played around with it for a minute until he was satisfied that it looked alright—in his mind at least. How bad could combed-back hair really look, anyway?

He finished getting ready, dressing in something a little more casual. He buttoned up his striped shirt, leaving the top two buttons undone, when he realized he had no idea where his old recipe notebook was. That would probably be helpful tonight seeing as Aranea didn't seem like the type of woman who would have a variety of meals memorized and she would probably need some inspiration. A hunt for the notebook commenced. He felt around on the upper shelf of his closet and only found scrap papers and an old box that he kept a pair of dress shoes in. Nothing on the floor of the closet. Nothing in any coat pockets. Could it be in any of the drawers?

Then, an assertive knock at the door.

"It's open," Ignis called out as he searched his dresser drawer, pushing the contents of the drawer aside. It had been so long since he'd cracked the book open and he fretted that he possibly tossed it out at some point between Altissia and now. Finally, he breathed a sigh of relief though when his fingers brushed the smooth cover of the pad, shoved carelessly in the back, behind his slacks and jeans. He knew he'd never throw this old thing out.

Aranea opened the door as he stood up, waving the book in his hand. She stopped, stunned, in the doorway and he'd forgotten for a split-second that he changed his hairstyle. Her judgment was palpable. "Your hair."

He kept a straight face, the book still held in the air between his thumb and forefinger. "Yes?"

"You actually changed it."

". . . I did," he affirmed, though regret started to sink in. Suddenly he felt like a foolish schoolboy, kicking himself for stepping outside of his comfort zone and making a change to himself, no matter how small it was. Why did he do it, anyway?

"Interesting . . ." She eyed him up and down, sneering as he stood there, plainly uncomfortable. Then, she put an end to the torture by voicing her opinion. "I like it. It's different, but at least you don't look like some avian species. You also don't look as much like a giant douchebag anymore."

"You're crass."

"Would you expect anything less?" She closed the door behind her.

"I suppose not." He held the notebook out for her, changing the subject. "I'm sorry; I wasn't sure what it was that you were interested in, so I thought you could go through this for some ideas."

"Aw, hey! Your recipe book!" she recognized as she snatched it from his hand, flipping through it as if it were the first time she'd done so. She fell silent and Ignis smirked, imagining her curiously reading each recipe as she did when they camped together. It seemed like it was just yesterday.

He could still remember the way her plump, red lips moved with every word, even though she didn't realize it. Her silver hair, just long enough, fell in front of her face but couldn't do well to hide the glint in her eye. A glint from what, he never found out. He theorized it was from the excitement of food or the still-rushing adrenaline from battle. The way she stood without a care in the world made him, dare he say, envious? The passion for life and fun that radiated from every fiber of her being almost had him wishing that he, too, could be so carefree. All of that combined gave her this aura of strength and beauty and he admired it. There was more, though. Something about her. She was just . . . so . . .

"Helloooo? Anyone home in there? Why are you looking at me like that?" Her fingers snapped several times in his face.

Ignis flinched, realizing his vacant stare probably caught Aranea off guard. He laughed nervously. "Sorry, dozed off for a second. You have my full attention now."

"Am I that boring?" she asked, making them both laugh quietly. "Actually, I was just saying how I'd really like those skewers that you made for me before. I'm not sure if you have the ingredients for it, but nothing else sounds appetizing right now and I'm not in the mood for a heavy dinner."

Ignis brought his finger to his chin in thought, trying to recollect what it was that Cindy had gifted them and what Prompto and Gladio listed off as they helped put everything away. He knew there were some Leiden Peppers in the fridge and he vaguely remembered hearing something about frozen Anak meat. Maybe. It was a shot in the dark, but he beckoned Aranea to follow him all of ten steps to the kitchenette. "If we do, the meat is in the freezer. Would you mind being my eyes and look for them?"

"Making me do all the work. That's just great. I can already see how this night is going to go," she complained, but obviously did not mean it.

"Oh, it's a night now?" he asked, his eyebrows raised. "Here I was thinking this was just you hungry for dinner." He was unaware of the simpering look Aranea shot his way. A blast of cold air hit their faces as she opened the freezer and rummaged around.

Her fingers began to ache from shuffling the frozen food around. "I'm not seeing anything in here that looks anything like Anak meat."

"Check the refrigerator. It's possible that Gladio or Prompto put it in there—although I told them it would keep longer if placed in the freezer."

Aranea shifted her search to the fridge and, there all along, was the Anak meat. She took it out, along with the Leiden Pepper in a clear drawer toward the bottom, and placed them on the counter beside the stove behind her. "Defrosted and everything!"

"Perfect. No need to utilize the microwave to defrost anything."

Incredulous, she asked, "What's wrong with microwaves? Lemme guess, you're one of _those_ people? Afraid that microwaves give you all sorts of diseases if you use them too much?"

"I have nothing against them. I just find them more likely to ruin the taste and texture of a meal rather than enhance it in any way, as opposed to, say, a gas stove or an oven."

Aranea scrunched her face at the stove. "But . . . this isn't a gas stove. It's an electric one."

He sighed and rubbed his temple, growing more and more exasperated at her questions and comments. "I was merely using an example. I prefer gas stoves, yes, but we'll make do with what we have at our disposal. Now, shall we?"

The advisor instructed her to grab the necessary spices and oil, cutlery and pans, and the cutting board and stood back. He listened as she started to cut and cube the ingredients, but her movements were incredibly slow and choppy. Every so often, she'd mutter "shit" or "Goddammit" under her breath when her cuts didn't come out perfect. She didn't notice, but it made Ignis smile hearing her get so flustered. She was definitely out of her element.

He crossed his arms and leaned his hip against the counter. "Not much of a cook?"

"What gave you that idea . . . fucking peppers, I swear," she spat before taking a deep breath and persisting. "I'm more of a 'TV-dinners' and 'Cup Noodles' kind of gal. If I can't have it unwrapped and in front of me within three minutes, I'm done. None of this gourmet meal bullshit you seem to have going on."

"I'm sure you're doing an outstanding job," he encouraged.

She rolled her eyes. "You wouldn't be saying that if you could actually see the massacre in front of me. Honestly, I don't know how you do this. You made it look so easy before!"

"Practice. Patience. It wasn't something that came overnight, though there were plenty of times I wish it did. You'll get there with time," Ignis gently reassured, but only heard another grumble in return. Fearing she'd start throwing things against the wall in anger, he reached for her hand when heard her growl, feeling her overzealous grasp on the knife. "You can start by relaxing your grip. Loosening your fingers will stave off the fatigue in your hand than if you hold the knife too tight. Plus, it'll increase your range of motion and cut accuracy. Here, let me show you."

Aranea's eyes flickered at the contact. "What are you doing?"

"Showing you how to correctly hold a knife, for one," he said. She stayed guarded at first but loosened up as he wrapped his hands around hers from behind, guiding her slowly and carefully. His voice was low as he spoke directions in her ear, protecting her fingers from accidently getting caught up in the cutting of the food by covering them with his own.

He was right, but why wouldn't he be? He'd only been doing this since he was a child. By using less force, cutting everything became a lot easier. It made for fewer jagged pieces of peppers and the meat stopped looking so minced and more like actual cubes. She smirked. "Are you sure you're really blind?" she asked over her shoulder as he still smoothly moved her hands with his, his chest pressed against her back.

"Why's that?" he responded.

"I mean, your cuts make mine look like shit.

Ignis paused and then continued. "My apologies. That . . . that was not my intention."

"Woah, no, I'm not pissed or anything. You just . . . I mean, you're _really_ good at this. Honestly, maybe even more so since you can't see."

"You think so?" he replied, not knowing that his mouth was dangerously close to her ear. The sound of his voice and the feel of his breath gave Aranea goosebumps. She couldn't respond, so she continued to let him guide her until they were done.

With all the meat and peppers cut, Ignis, holding Aranea's hand, placed the knife to the side. He let go of her and turned to the sink, quickly washing his hands with soap and water. He pushed the glasses up higher on his face awkwardly with his forearm and his brows furrowed as a thought came to him. "You don't . . . you don't exactly tiptoe around me when it comes to my vision."

"What brings that up?"

"You don't behave like I'll crumble at simply mentioning that I'm blind. You don't give me the impression that you have any intentions of holding me back from anything. Since we've partnered together, you don't treat me any different than you did when we were on opposite sides of the fence—fighting each other as mortal enemies."

"No, I don't feel the need to treat you differently." Aranea searched for the skewers among the mess she created, seamlessly getting back to cooking on her own. "Why, do you want me to? Because I can, if you want."

"Oh . . . that's not what I meant. It's just something I've observed about you, that's all."

She alternated the chunks of meat and peppers onto the skewer and shrugged. "That's me—never one to sugarcoat things," she muttered. "Let me hazard a guess and say that your buddies treat you differently now than they used to. Am I right?"

It was Ignis' turn to shrug. "More overprotective, I'd say."

Aranea snorted. "Can you blame them? Their best friend takes a cheap shot to the face and winds up with a fate far worse than death, in my opinion. Because of that, you can't fight efficiently, your lack of defense is horrifying, and it's probably a pain in the ass to take you anywhere because you need someone to constantly guide you so you don't get lost," she fired off without skipping a beat, pausing to look at him while putting together another skewer. "Sound about right?"

Ignis wavered, unable find the words to respond. The kitchen fell awkwardly quiet and Aranea turned back to assembling more skewers. Ignis was surprised when she spoke again, assuming her small tirade was all she had to say. "What they _don't_ see right now is your passion to help them. They don't see how eager you are to get back out there in preparation for the Prince to return and they definitely don't see how well you're doing so far, all things considered." She paused for a moment to finish the rest of the skewers and turned the stove on, dropping a small amount of oil into the pan and letting it heat up. A nod from Ignis told her to put the skewers in the pan and they immediately began to sizzle.

She wiped her hands on a nearby dish towel before continuing. "I say just give them more time and they'll eventually come around. They're scared of you and perhaps scared _for_ you. What happened to you wasn't fair, but you're not the only one affected by it. Keep that in mind, alright?"

Ignis gave a half-smile and shifted his weight. "You're a wise woman, Miss Highwind."

"Tell me something I don't know."

The smell of the skewers permeated the room and made the two of them salivate ravenously. Ignis, back to leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, counted out the minutes in his head, waiting for the right moment to take them off the stove. Too soon and they'd be raw in the middle; too long and they would burn. That was the thing with cooking—it was an art that required the utmost skill to pull off the perfect dish. All the cooking trial and error he experienced over the years taught Ignis that.

The pan popped angrily as the oil sizzled under the meat and peppers. "Alright, you can turn the skewers over now."

"Why don't you do it?" she suggested.

He tensed up and shook his head, stuttering for an excuse. "Oh, that's ok. This is your dish. I'm just here to— "

"Nonsense. Give me your hand." It sounded like a suggestion but it was more of a command as she snatched his hand from between his crossed arms and, with her hand on top of his, guided him to the sticks of the skewers. She repressed a giggle as he stiffly moved under her grip, rotating each skewer awkwardly. He was visibly nervous but made no effort to move away. Instead, he continued to stand over the hot stove with cheeks tinged strawberry-pink.

"Between helping me cut everything and now this, I think you severely underestimate yourself," she whispered, finally removing her hand from his but remaining close. She watched him with interest and it was all he could do not to turn away from her stare, feeling her eyes on him. He breathed in to slow his racing heart but instead picked up on the faintest notes of jasmine and orchid coming from her hair. It was a beautiful, intoxicating scent, one he hadn't noticed before with her.

He cleared his throat and swallowed hard, taking a half-step to the side. "They're almost done," he rasped, clearing his throat again to rid the lump in it. He chalked it up to nerves from being over the stove for the first time in a long while. It had nothing to do with Aranea, the way her hand so casually rested on his, how she smelled of dark florals, or how she vacillated between grumpy one minute and carefree the next. No way.

"Perfect timing because I'm starving. I'm going to eat my own arm in two seconds if I have to wait any longer."

Ignis let the skewers sit for a few more minutes to ensure they were thoroughly cooked through before removing them from the heat and placing them on the plate that Aranea so generously handed to him. He warned her to wait until they were cooled before trying to eat them as he gathered up the pan, the cutlery, and the cutting board and dumped them into the sink for cleaning.

"Don't you want any?" she asked right before taking a bite of the still-steaming meat, hissing and cursing as it painfully burned the roof of her mouth.

He smirked and refrained from saying 'I told you so', blindly scrubbing and cleaning the dishes with scalding, soapy water. Without a dishwasher, using near-boiling water to clean the dishes in the sink was the only way he felt comfortable in getting rid of any residual bacteria on the cookware and utensils. He'd built up a tolerance to the high heat of the water, so it didn't nearly affect him as much as it did when he was younger. Still, the sting of the water smarted his hands and he wondered if it was karma for wanting to gloat his propensity for being right.

As he scrubbed and cleaned the dishes, Ignis felt Aranea's presence beside him with her plate in her hand. He paused to look in her direction. "Did everything come out alright? Is there something wrong?"

"Open your mouth."

He raised a cautious eyebrow and shook his head, wondering if he heard her wrong. "I . . . I'm sorry, what?"

"Well, I certainly wasn't the only one to make this and you still need to eat. Come on, I'll feed you a piece," she innocently insisted with a hidden layer of mischievousness underlying her words. The mix of jasmine and orchid made him go weak again as Aranea leaned in, pulling a piece of Anak meat from the stick. His heart felt like it would pound right out of his chest but he obliged, parting his lips slowly as she placed the food in his mouth.

He forced himself to chew, his head swimming from the intimate act. He heard Aranea chuckle as she pulled a piece of pepper from the skewer. "See? It's good, isn't it? We make a great team."

He wanted so badly to say something and put an end to _whatever_ this was, but he continued to stand there like a complete idiot, cheeks growing redder by the second. "I can . . . ah . . . you know I can get my own plate and . . . um . . . I can feed myself."

"I know, but where's the fun in that?"

With his hands still submerged in the once-scalding, now-lukewarm dishwater, she put the piece of pepper to his lips and he tentatively ate that as well. "You're getting far too much merriment out of this, aren't you?" he deadpanned, not wanting to admit that he was having a little fun, too. Only a little.

"Maybe, but only because I'm learning how cute you are when you're flustered," she huskily breathed.

"I don't have the slightest idea what you're talking about," he returned just as gruffly, finding himself playing into her game.

A smile formed across her lips as she reached up to feed him again. "Sure, you don't."

While they were caught up in the moment, they missed a figure standing, jaw dropped, in the room, watching them. "Uh, guys? What's . . . going on?"

Aranea and Ignis jumped, startled by the intrusion. Prompto's eyes were wide with surprise at the scene he stumbled onto; Aranea leaned in dangerously close with her fingers perched right at Ignis' lips and Ignis looking like he, surprisingly, enjoyed it. On Prompto's exclamation, however, Ignis choked down the food in his mouth and quickly returned to scrubbing dishes, mortified, while Aranea gave the blonde a crocodilian smile.

"Well, I'll take that as my cue to be on my way. Thanks for dinner, Four-Eyes." She snaked by Prompto with her plate of skewers in hand, brushing his shoulder with her own, leaving the two men alone in the room as she returned to hers down the hall.

"Prompto," Ignis began, harsher than he meant to, "you're home early." Ears burning, he wanted nothing more than to crawl into a hole and die. Melt into the ground. Teleport anywhere else on Eos but here. He silently begged Prompto to ignore whatever it was that he thought happened, but that was like asking the sun to come up again.

"Yeah . . . Cor took over guard duty for the rest of the night and brought Iris with him. But, Iggy? Wanna explain what that was all about?"

"To be honest, Prompto, your guess is as good as mine," he feigned ignorance as he began to place the clean dishes in the next basin.

"Mmmhmmm, well _you_ seemed to be enjoying _whatever_ that was."

_Please stop talking. Please leave me alone. For the love of Ramuh and Shiva and Bahamut and the rest of the Six, please go away._

Prompto's finger prodded Ignis in the side and Ignis scowled back at him. "Do you have a crruuussshhhh?" he asked in a sing-song voice.

"I can assure you that, whatever you think you saw, was most certainly not in any way, shape, or form, signaling an attraction between either of us. She was hungry and we had all that food from Cindy that we brought back from Hammerhead. I was merely being a considerate host."

"Oh yes, because most considerate hosts allow their guests to tease them provocatively with food. I must have missed that when I took Home Ec in high school, but thank the Gods you're here to let me know!"

Ignis flicked some water toward Prompto in a last-ditch effort to get him to go away. He protested and slapped the advisor on the arm in retaliation. "Alright already, I'll stop . . . for now. But Gladio's going to flip a shit when he hears about this!"

Ignis' face shot up upon hearing this and he abandoned the sink to chase Prompto, who was now howling with laughter as he bolted to the door and down the hall, away from his would-be assailant. "What do you expect? You know I'm the worst at keeping secrets!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Ahhhhh! I loved writing this chapter. New hairstyle for Iggy, learning how to cook while blind, and Aranea unabashedly flirting with him. It made me smile :)
> 
> Also, who is excited for the new DLC coming out on Tuesday? I'm going to try really hard to get the next chapter out on time, but please don't hate me if I lapse a day because I'll be playing the new Chapter 13 and Episode Gladio. I've been really looking forward to this new content.
> 
> Thanks again so much for all the reviews, favorites, and follows. Especially after the week that I had, they really made my day! I can't wait to hear how you feel about this chapter :D


	7. Denial

**Water Under the Bridge**

**Denial**

"So, what's the deal?"

Aranea kept her eyes forward as she and Prompto trudged through the grass that nearly towered over the both of them. She pretended to not hear him the first time, but when he asked the question again, she rolled her eyes and stopped to face him. "What are you blabbering on about, Blondie?"

"Between you and Iggy," he said like the answer was obvious.

Months had passed by since Prompto walked in on her and Ignis in the kitchen. If it weren't for the fact that Gladio and Prompto had basically been on opposite schedules, Prompto surely would have spilled his guts to him but, as luck would have it, he had to continue to shoulder the secret on his own.

Aranea rolled her eyes harder. "What about him?"

Prompto winked and nudged her in the side with his elbow. "Oh . . . _you know_."

"No, I seriously don't."

She parted the grass carefully, quickly motioning for everyone to lay low as an Iron Giant stomped by. With baited breaths, they waited for it to finally get a fair distance away before moving on. They were headed for Aracheole Stronghold, an abandoned Empire base south of Lestallum that was rumored by various refugees to have a large stock of potions and elixirs. Cor designated Aranea and her men to lead the search for these items. He also placed Prompto on the team since Gladio had worked tirelessly the last couple of days on guard duty.

This time, Aranea was thoughtful enough to forewarn Ignis about her departure, estimating she'd be back within the week—a far cry from her month-long mission before. For some reason, it was getting harder and harder to leave him each time she was sent away. It was, unexpectedly, tugging at her heart. _Whatever, he'll be ok,_ she thought, assuming she was just worried about his wellbeing.

Now, here she was with the ever-persistent Sunshine Boy who was dead set on getting her to admit to some asinine and vague notion that simply wasn't true.

"Oh, but you seriously _do_. How else would you explain me walking in on you and Ignis, alone, in the kitchen, _practically kissing_ — "

"Woah, woah, woah, hold up. There was no _practically kissing_. In fact, there wasn't anything close. He was hungry and his hands were all wet, so I gave him a bite of my food. I'm not seeing the big deal," she admonished before turning to Biggs and Wedge, yelling over her shoulder for them to keep up.

"I'm sorry, but are you forgetting the look of absolute desire in his eyes as you did that? Because, from what I saw, that certainly tells a different story than what you're telling me." He tried to walk alongside her, but she sped up to get away from him. "Listen, I've known Iggy since high school and that guy has the emotional range of a teaspoon. Think what you want; I know flirting when I see it and you two were, or are, definitely flirting."

Aranea spun on her heels, getting in his face. "What the hell are you going on about?" she hissed, narrowing her eyes. "There's no flirting or anything between me and Four Eyes. For Astral's sake, he's not even that good looking!"

Prompto's jaw dropped in disbelief. "Hey, come on! You _know_ not true! I think we can _all_ agree that Ignis is very good looking! The man has the cheekbones of a God and the most dazzling of smiles that could melt any woman's cold, lifeless heart," Prompto playfully swooned, batting his eyelids and snickering. Aranea clenched her teeth. Prompto may have been joking, but what he was saying wasn't a lie. Still, Aranea didn't need to tell him she thought that.

"Good, then you date him."

The sharpshooter scrunched his face. "Nah, he's not my type. Come back to me if he turns into a blonde, southern Belle with a proclivity for cars. Then we can talk," he hinted as they moved from heavy grass to open terrain, Aracheole Stronghold just up ahead.

They approached the fortress in silence, daemons howling and screeching not far off. Aranea thought the third-degree interrogation was finally over, but Prompto decided he wasn't ready to let up. Her eyebrow started to twitch when he rambled again and she wanted nothing more than to stab him, cut him into itty-bitty pieces, and bury him right where they were standing. He just wouldn't. Shut. Up.

The base was literal steps away at this point when Prompto started again, his voice much higher in pitch as he goaded her. "—I mean, I'm just saying! It's no coincidence that when you're in town, Iggy likes to wake up and go on morning walks. That's fine and all, but then he's perfectly happy with staying in the room when you're away on missions. Weird, right? If I didn't know any better, I'd say he was meeting someone. A certain _Commodore_ , maybe?"

She stopped in her tracks and faced him, the biggest grin plastered across his lips. Her face fell.

He knew. He may not know the specifics, but he knew something was up.

Aranea gripped Prompto's bicep, her grip eliciting a yelp from him as her nails dug into his skin. She yanked him close to her and detected a fleeting hint of fear flicker across his eyes. "Listen here, you little shit. If you say a word about _anything_ — "

"I thought you said there wasn't anything between you."

"There's not."

"Are you _sure_?" he sang, drawing out the last word irritatingly. He yelped again, this time louder, as she tightened her grip.

"Oi! Is everything alright up tha' way?" Wedge called out, both him and Biggs bringing up the rear as they all stood in front of the heavy-metal entrance to the stronghold. Prompto and Aranea jerked their heads to the duo and then back at each other.

"Ohhhh, we're fine! Nothing to see here, right Aranea?" Prompto brushed away their concerns, but under his breath, he hissed: "Sheesh, get your hands off me."

He wrenched away from her vice-like grip and flicked her arm away, proving to be a little stronger than Aranea thought for someone who appeared so scrawny. Her eyes were slits as he walked by her, trying to figure out the lock mechanism to get inside the base. He was quiet for a moment, concentrating on the task, before cracking the lock and gaining entry.

Without turning around, he stirred the pot again. "What's wrong? Afraid I'll tell Gladio? Because I mean, if we're being honest, I would be the one to spill the beans, right?" he sighed. "But I won't. I can't do that to Ignis."

Biggs and Wedge skirted by Prompto and Aranea, ignoring their squabble as they entered the fortress, guns readied and aimed should any daemons call this place home. Aranea wanted to follow the duo inside, but she couldn't pull her stare from the blonde, his words echoing in her head. "Wait, can't do _what_ to Ignis?"

Prompto sighed dramatically, pulling his own gun from its holster and popping in a few more bullets into the chamber. "Ignis may not realize it and you may be in denial, but whatever it is you two have been up to and whatever you guys have been doing, it really has brought out a side of Iggy I've never seen before." His expression was rather serious as he spoke, but he kept his hands busy with his gun. "He's a lot happier these days. I honestly haven't seen him this cheerful—if you can call it that—since Altissia, maybe even before that.

Funny enough, he's also been trying to get in the kitchen more. He's still too stubborn to let us help, though. I mean, he'll ask us to make sure that his measurements are correct and that he's using salt and not sugar, but I can't say he even entertained the idea of stepping foot in front of a stove until I saw you two in our kitchen that time."

"He's trying to cook again? Alone?" Aranea tried to mask the surprise on her face by pretending her nose itched for far longer than necessary, but Prompto noticed.

The sight of her trying not to show her emotions made Prompto smile. "Something, _or someone_ , definitely inspired him, that's for sure. Maybe it's coincidence or maybe not, I don't know. If it'll make you feel better, I'll keep pretending I have no idea what's going on, but— "

Aranea interrupted him before he could finish his sentence. "That's because there is nothing going on. The lack of sun must be messing with your mind or something, but whatever Specs does has absolutely nothing to do with me, so get those thoughts out of your head." She bumped him intentionally with her shoulder and got a sick joy when she heard him say "Ouch" under his breath. "Let's go. We have potions to grab and daemons to slaughter."

Luckily enough, or unluckily if you were Aranea and itching for a fight, there were few daemons within the confines of the stronghold. A few imps here and there and one Fire Bomb, but that was it. She couldn't deny that the lack of daemons made grabbing the massive load of scattered potions that much easier to do. Even though she and Cor didn't exactly get along, she was silently thanking him for pressuring the team to bring backpacks so they wouldn't have to juggle the stock in their arms.

Filled to the point that the bags barely zipped up, they surveyed the base one final time for any stray useful items lying around before heading back to the stronghold entrance. They understood they'd have to stop and make camp along the way. The city was just too far away to get back in one day on foot with the dangers ahead, so they wanted to make sure they were prepared to head home.

As they started to head out, something caught Aranea's eye—papers scattered by and around an office desk. She held a hand up. "Hold up, don't leave just yet."

The three men tilted their heads various degrees in confusion and she walked to the papers. They were large sheets with a giant bullseye in the middle, surrounded by blue, yellow, and black rings. Target paper. She hid a smile and rolled up the papers, tucking them under her arm. Biggs and Wedge ignored her orders to wait, instead choosing to carry on to the base entrance. They didn't really care what she did, so long as she remained safe. Prompto, on the other hand, remained unmoving from where he stopped.

He pointed at the papers in her arms, smirking. "Interesting thing to bring back."

"Can it, Blondie. It's for target practice; but if you don't knock it off, I'm going to use you as a target instead of these papers."

"Target practice for you? Or target practice for Iggy? Because if it's for Iggy, I don't think he'll be happy to use me instead of those papers. But if it's for you . . ." He made a zipping motion over his lips, pressing them together as he threw away an invisible key to keep his mouth shut.

Aranea scowled and Prompto interlocked his hands over his head. "Can I just ask you one thing?" He saw her cock an eyebrow. "Do you have feelings for him?"

She held his gaze and took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she released it slowly. It looked like she was going to reveal a major bombshell. She looked at him again. "No," she replied curtly, storming away.

Prompto held a hand out and chased after her. "Wait! Is that a 'no' to asking you one thing or is that a 'no' that you don't have feelings for him? I'm gonna need clarification! Ugh, slow down! You're walking too fast! Dammit, wait for me!"

* * *

Lestallum had, once again, been thrust into chaos as Altissian refugees had started to make their way to the city for salvation. The streets were unruly with rattled and disordered citizens trying to figure out what to do, or where to go, next. The good news was that this showed there were more people in the world who were safe; the bad news was that it made Lestallum feel a great deal smaller and cramped.

Due to the sudden influx of people, Aranea decided it was best that she and Ignis move their training to the lit outskirts of the city where the tree line began. It would make pinning the targets that she'd brought home that much easier (just as it was easier to pin paper to tree bark, it also wouldn't be feasible to aim a sharpened lance at brick and stone buildings) and they would still have the quiet privacy they'd both come to enjoy with each other. The targets wouldn't replace having to face actual daemons, but anything was better than nothing.

Aranea also proposed they meet later in the afternoon (even though it would always seem like night no matter what time they met) on this day, just because everyone was too busy to notice they were gone and she'd wanted to sleep in for once.

Now, she laid on her side on a patch of grass, head supported with her hand, finding herself admiring Ignis, the way he took aim, and the way he threw his weapon at the targets around them, though he remained blissfully unaware of her blatant staring. Prompto was right—he was very good looking. That didn't mean anything though, right? She could admire him and admit he was handsome . . . and charming . . . that gorgeous accent . . . and oh God, those muscles under his fitted short-sleeved t-shirt . . . no. That didn't mean she was flirting or that she had _any_ feelings for him. _That's_ where Prompto was wrong.

She shook her head, vaguely aware that Ignis was saying something to her. She pretended she'd been listening and managed to seamlessly fall back into their idle conversation between his throws. They conversed and joked back and forth, both a lot livelier than they would be at 5 am. It was a nice change of pace.

Another throw and the lance pierced the paper pinned against the tree, close to the center but not close enough. Ignis moved his head from one shoulder to the other, stretching his neck and trying to loosen up. His hair caught the light of an obnoxiously bright lamp overhead and Aranea snorted.

"Do you dye your hair, Specs?"

Ignis tossed a look over his shoulder. "What reason would I have to dye my hair? That makes no sense."

"Well, you used to have light brown hair and now it's dark brown. It looks like you dyed it. What, was changing up the style to get my attention not enough?"

"I didn't change my hairstyle for you," he challenged. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out why, over the course of however long, his hair went dark. "It's probably just a mixture of my getting older and no sun to lighten it up. It's science, really," he hypothesized. Aranea didn't ask further—still convinced he secretly dyed it—and Ignis returned to target practice. Sometimes he would miss the tree completely, other times he got lucky and nailed a bullseye.

As he practiced, they talked about simple subjects: Their favorite seasons and why (Ignis said Autumn, hands-down, for the coffee and changing of the scenery while Aranea chose Winter for the longer nights), would they rather live in the past or the future (after much debate, they both settled on the past, but not too distant past, since the future was uncertain), and favorite subject back in high school (neither could choose because Ignis loved and excelled at all subjects while Aranea barely scraped by and hated school with a fiery passion).

Chatting, before an awkward and trying thing between them, was now effortless and fun. It was light. They welcomed each other's company and basked in, what could easily be, the hours of dialogue they exchanged back and forth.

Aranea snapped her fingers with another topic to discuss. "Oh, I've got something! Tell me something about yourself that no one else knows."

He grunted, throwing another lance at the tree and grazing the outer edge of the target paper. A bead of sweat fell down the side of his face and he wiped it away with the back of his hand, furrowing his brows at her question. "I doubt there's anything about me that you're interested in hearing and that no one else would have a clue about."

She shrugged. "There has to be _something_ that no one else knows. You're definitely the type to hide a thing or two."

He recalled the lance back to his possession and pondered her question. Sure, Ignis wasn't exactly an open book when it came to his life, but he grew up alongside Gladio and Noct, especially, so thinking of something that they didn't know about was rather difficult. He closed his eye and tilted his head back in thought.

Then, he remembered.

"Well, there is one thing . . ."

His tone of voice failed to give Aranea any hint at what it could be, good or bad. She leaned forward in anticipation. "Well?" she urged, waiting with baited breath.

Now he looked a little embarrassed, mindlessly fiddling with the weapon in his hand. "It's not something I'm proud of . . . but there was . . . an indiscretion on my part. Can I trust that this stays between us?" Aranea tilted her head, waiting for whatever this _indiscretion_ was.

He took a deep breath and, before admitting his secret, he launched his weapon at the paper and hit an outer ring. Pushing his tinted glasses higher on his nose and crossing his arms, he turned to her. "It was back in Altissia. We were celebrating our arrival to the city. His Highness wanted to unwind and I couldn't very well let him go off alone, so we all made an outing of it. I . . . I allowed myself to imbibe in a few more drinks than I can usually tolerate. Somewhere between the shots and however many beers I had, everything went hazy.

There was a girl—very attractive, intelligent, could hold her own in a conversation . . . you get the picture. Anyway, we really hit it off and I remember her inviting me back to her loft since it was quieter there. One thing led to another and, the next thing I knew . . ." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly and grimaced, failing to catch the sudden, but subtle, shift in Aranea's demeanor.

"I remember stumbling back to the Levelle and tripping over my own feet more than I ever thought possible. Everything was spinning and I mentally forced myself to not get sick. I was relieved when I finally got to the room and everyone was passed out because I wasn't exactly proud of what I'd done. Gladio never had a problem with bringing women back to the room, but for some reason it made me feel . . . When they awoke, they never asked where I went and I never brought it up." His jawline was taut with stress. "That was not my best night, but I can't do much now to change that."

Silence. Ignis waited for Aranea to say something, _anything_. She was the one, after all, who asked for something no one else knew, and this was _the_ thing. The wind around them blew, the grass rustled, and the noise from Lestallum floated in the air—but Aranea stayed quiet. Deathly quiet. It wasn't like her to not find the humor in something like this and he just _knew_ she was glaring daggers at him.

"Did I offend?" he meekly asked, taking a careful step forward.

She wasn't offended by any means—how could she be when she'd had her fair share of sexual dalliances—but when it came from Ignis' mouth that he, too, had a past, it made her feel something she'd never felt before in her life.

His clouded gaze was on her now and she shook her head, trying to rid the mental images in her head and the unpleasant feeling in her chest. She resorted to sarcasm and stinging remarks. "No, not at all. Honestly, I'm just shocked someone would want to fuck such a drunken, uptight douchebag. Not so upstanding as a Royal Advisor, are you? I wonder what his Highness would think of you?"

He rolled his eye and stood up straighter, miffed at her comment and confused. If he didn't know any better, he'd gauge to say she was . . . jealous? "Thanks, Aranea. Always the classy one. Spare me the vulgarities. You asked me to share something and I did."

Frustrated with her sudden change in behavior, Ignis harnessed that emotion and channeled it into his target practice. He brought his arm back as far as he could and hurled the lance toward the paper. As he completed his throw, a loud pop and a sharp pain shot down his arm. He inhaled sharply and brought his other hand up to cradle his elbow.

Immediately, Aranea was on her feet and by his side, having heard the noise. "Shit, what did you do?" she asked, trying to peel his hand away from his elbow. "Let me see. Can you move your arm?"

He winced but could bend his elbow, although it was plain to see how painful it was to do so. She carefully assisted him in moving his arm before she nodded with definiteness. "It's not broken, so that's good. Probably just hyperextended it a bit, but nothing we can't fix, right?" With one hand on his arm and the other on his shoulder, she guided him to sit down where she had been just before. "Don't move, ok? I think I have something in my bag."

He waited patiently as she walked to the edge of the lit area where her bag was. She rifled raucously through it, hoping she'd brought what she was looking for. As he sat, his attention was called to her when she mumbled something just loud enough to hear it was something directed at him, but he didn't catch it.

"What did you say?" he asked. She mumbled again and he sighed, debating whether to ask her to repeat whatever she was saying.

He didn't need to because she stopped sifting through her bag and spoke louder. "I'm . . . sorry. For what I said. I . . . ugh, I suck at apologies. But I'm sorry."

It took a second for Ignis to register she was referring to her crude comment regarding his one-night stand. It was surprising that she had it in her to apologize for anything at all. "Thank you. I appreciate it."

She paused and added one more thought. "You know, you have no reason to be ashamed or embarrassed about it. There's nothing wrong with having some free-for-all fun every once in a while, alright?"

That was it. She didn't elaborate further on her apology and he smiled, a wave of liberation washing over him as if her words, and her words alone, absolved him a bit. She went back to her bag and stopped again, cursing her lack of success of finding what she was looking for. Right as she gave up, though, she let out an "Aha!" and found gauze and potions tucked in the deep recesses of the bag under her change of clothes and a spare blanket.

Now, she thought, it was her turn to bring up uncomfortable topics. "So, your buddy, Prompto, seems to think there's something going on between us."

Still nursing his elbow, he barely flinched at the words. "Oh?"

Aranea stood and returned with a roll of gauze and a potion for the pain. She knelt down and delicately took his elbow into her hand, compressing it in the bandages so he wouldn't move it more than necessary. "Here, take this," she said, handing him the potion. "When we get back to the Levelle, I'll give you another potion and hopefully that'll be enough to mostly heal you."

Without another word, Ignis took the potion and felt slight relief, but not enough to completely numb the pain. Like Aranea said, it would probably take another potion or two to completely heal, but this would work for now.

Aranea fell backward onto her behind and into a cross-legged sitting position. "Anyway, yeah. Back to Prompto. He kept insisting that you and I have some sort of thing between us and I'm just in denial and you're just too stupid to see it."

"Interesting choice of words he used for me," Ignis chuckled, leaning back against the rough bark of a tree behind him. "I wonder why he thinks that about us. _You_ don't see me, or us, in that way, do you?"

She recoiled, not expecting to be put on the spot like this. "Of course not! That's ridiculous! Come on, a relationship between us is basically a disaster waiting to happen. Why would a guy like you ever be caught dead with a girl like me, anyway?" she snorted forcefully.

Hearing that from Aranea felt like an odd punch to the stomach for Ignis. He found it unusually difficult to agree with her. No, of course, there was nothing there. He managed to mumble a half-hearted concurrence to her response, though doing so just felt so wrong. Obviously, Prompto was mistaken. Nonetheless, Aranea was pleased with his agreement and took it as a sign that, once again, she was right.

She turned to him but stopped when she noticed his sagged body language. Well, that hurt to see. She wanted to see him uncaring. Stoic. Nonchalant. She didn't want to think that what she said had any effect on him whatsoever, but the fact that it possibly did, especially because of what they were talking about, petrified her. Had Prompto been right? No. How could he be?

Aranea changed the subject. "Oh! Prompto also mentioned that you were back in the kitchen a lot more lately, which I thought was interesting because you never once said anything to me about that."

"I didn't think you'd care."

"What are you talking about?" she asked, unbelieving, as she playfully smacked him on the arm. "Of course I'd care! We're friends, right?"

"Sure . . . friends . . ." He sounded the word out as if it were the first time he'd ever spoken it before, nodding slowly. The earlier exchange still ruminated through his head and everything just felt so odd all of a sudden. Ignis couldn't understand what was happening in that moment. They were friends. Always had been (except for when she tried to kill them, but that wasn't exactly her fault). But friends didn't seem like the right word. He ran his hand over the bandages on his elbow and figured he was overthinking everything. Lack of sleep could do that to someone.

Friends. Yes.

Aranea, too, felt the shift between them. Unlike Ignis, however, she was determined to avoid the topic. She forced a smile and hoped it would hide the anxiety she was feeling. "So, what have you been making? Anything worth my time to sample?"

"Depends on what you consider worth your time," he said, stretching his legs out in front of him and leaning forward at the waist to stretch his back. He sat back up and sighed. "I've mostly been working on dishes that are too easy to mess up, like soups and the occasional stir-fry. Prompto tried to assist me with dumplings once, but that was a major disaster. Not his fault, mind you. Mostly me just trying to learn the ropes again. I can only imagine how appalling the kitchen looked when we were finished."

She laughed quietly. "It sounds like you're doing quite well. Maybe you can cook me something when you're comfortable with your skills?"

"Hey, now. I don't just cook on demand these days," he joked, his smile growing a little upon hearing her laugh.

"Well, fine then. I don't want your stupid, nasty food anyway!"

"You know, I would be offended if it weren't for the fact that I _know_ my dishes are top-notch. But you go right on ahead and believe that anything I make is subpar," he winked and Aranea pushed him like she'd done before.

"Fiiiiine, I _guess_ your food is ok. But not a step above that, got it?"

He nodded and his laughter tapered off. "So, Miss Highwind, if you could have any dish, what would it be?"

She contemplated this. Everything sounded great right now, but she settled on one thing in particular. "I love seafood, so I guess something with that?" The more the thought about it, the more her eyes lit up. "Like shrimp! Oh, yeah, shrimp and maybe pasta? Definitely something like that! Wow, that would be so good right now. With a salad and a glass of wine?"

He heard the excitement in her voice and she continued to rattle off her dream dish and every aspect of it. It was probably the most excited he'd ever heard her sound and, in turn, it excited him. Who knew talking about something so trivial as food could be so enthusing. Though it was probably the trivial things nowadays that brought forth the most happiness to counteract the mundaneness and sheer horror of everyday living.

"Sounds like I'll have my work cut out for me."

"I'd say you do, Specs."

"Then, I'll make sure that you're the first person I cook an entire dish for, start to finish. I can't promise it'll be anytime soon, but I can promise that I'll try." He reached his hand out and held it in the air to receive a handshake from her. "Deal?"

Aranea looked down at his hand, back to his face, and then again at his hand. She smirked, holding hers out, too. "Deal."

They shook on it. Aranea didn't want to let go, but she did. She had to and she thought she saw a trace of regret on Ignis' face at letting go as well. Or maybe she was just reading too much into it. They were just friends, after all. She made that perfectly clear. This world was too uncertain and far too unstable for anything else, and she was ok with that. She had to be. But, for the first time in a long time, she actually felt . . .

Happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was so glad to see the reactions that I got from the last chapter. This chapter looked a little more at Aranea's thoughts and went back and forth between her and Ignis a bit, but I hope you enjoyed the small deviation from just Ignis' point of view this time around. It looks like a certain someone got a little jealous of Iggy's past ;)
> 
> Also, the 'emotional range of a teaspoon' comment in this chapter was a comment used in Harry Potter. Just wanted to make that known that I did not come up with that. All J.K. Rowling!
> 
> If you ever want to reach out, you can find me on Tumblr at the same username. :)
> 
> Can't wait to see what you all think of this chapter!
> 
> Oh! And Happy Birthday, Gladio! Haha, time to break out those Cup Noodles in celebration!


	8. The Darkest Nightmares

**Water Under the Bridge  
The Darkest Nightmares**

The sky was blue. The kind of blue you'd find on a clear, spring day. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and the sun shone bright and high directly above, beating down but not in a way that was uncomfortable. The temperature was perfect. A line of birds flew by and there was absolutely no humidity. No daemons, no death, no destruction like there should've been. The strangest thing of all was that Ignis could see every bit of it. He blinked several times, but nothing changed. It was all right there for him to take in. Nothing about any of this made sense, but he didn't question it. All that mattered was that he had his vision back and everything was right in the world.

Ignis had to find someone and tell them. There was no question; the first person that popped into his head was Aranea. He had to find her and share the good news, ecstatic at the notion of getting to see her again with his own eyes. He imagined she was still just as beautiful as the day he first saw her and he couldn't wait to tell her. It had been far too long since he'd last saw her, not just through a conjured image from memory. The excitement made him dizzy and delirious, but that didn't deter him. Off he went, slow at first and then breaking into a run.

The breeze felt amazing against his face and the adrenaline made him feel like he could run forever. Everything was bright and cheerful, a direct reflection of how he felt inside. This day couldn't get any more perfect.

While it couldn't get any better, it could always go downhill, just as it seemed now.

By now, Ignis had been running for a while and it didn't feel like he was making any headway. He would run into an intersection, choose a direction, but would wind up back where he was just minutes before. If he did make it somewhere new, it wouldn't last very long because the very next intersection would take him right back to another familiar road.

_What is going on? Why can't I get out of this maze? I need to find her. I need to see Aranea._

No matter where he went, every choice he made led to another long and narrow road, bordered on each side with the slimy, brick walls of abandoned buildings, growing taller and taller with each stride. The sky, before so alive and inviting, now seemed to torment him as it starkly contrasted against the disgusting alleyways he raced through. His lungs were on fire as he was losing steam and struggling to catch his breath. The thought of turning back wasn't even an option at this point as he couldn't remember how he got to where he was now.

As he was about to give up, Ignis rounded a corner and let out a breath of relief. At the end of the road was an oceanside cliff, overlooking the picturesque waters of Eos.

And standing at the cliffside was Aranea.

He knew it was her. Her silver hair was gathered in several small braids, held together with a black ribbon. She looked much smaller than she normally did, but only because she wasn't wearing her typical bulky armor and headgear. She turned slowly, her smile so big that it reached her eyes as she recognized him.

And for the love of everything, she was more beautiful than he ever thought possible.

His heart leaped in his chest and he ran again, feeling more alive than ever now that he found her. He wanted to take her into his arms, hug her close and never let go.

_Not much longer._

But as Ignis approached, everything unraveled and fell apart. The sky turned from the peaceful Easter-blue to a sickening and foreboding shade of black and dark green. The breeze changed to a blustery gale. Thorny trees shot up from the ground, one after the other, creating a barricade or obstacle of some sort between Ignis and Aranea. Branches, spindly and barbed, snaked their way around Aranea and violently pulled her away, suspending her high in the air. Her blood-curdling scream forced Ignis to sprint with everything he had.

Before Ignis could make it to the barrier of trees, a blow to the back of his head knocked him forward to his knees and he felt someone twist his right arm back behind his back. He screamed in pain but couldn't move. Aranea yelled for him but there was nothing he could do.

The offender's other hand reached down and seized Ignis along his jaw, forcing him to watch as Aranea grappled desperately against the trees, but every effort only gave her more cuts and gashes. Bright, crimson blood dribbled down her pale skin. Ignis squeezed his eyes shut, but the voice of his captor popped them back open. "She would look absolutely beautiful as a daemon, wouldn't she?"

Ignis' stomach went cold. That voice. He'd know that voice anywhere.

Ardyn.

His arm was twisted harder and harder behind him and Ignis feared one more tug would pop his shoulder right out of its socket. He was still forced into a kneeling position and he cowered while Ardyn laughed and Aranea cried.

Ardyn leaned in close and whispered seductively in his ear, his lips centimeters away. It was all Ignis could do to not gag at the closeness of the Chancellor. "Oh, Ignis. How I've been watching you, waiting for your arrival. I knew you'd come for her, just like you tried to do for your dear, sweet prince in Altissia. Now, you can watch as she slowly forgets you, memories erased while she rampages for your death. And yet, you'll do nothing because you care for her. You and your blossoming love for her. It'll be more than you can bear. You'll die for her before you save her from herself. Such a pity."

Another jolt of pain as his arm was pulled further behind him and Ardyn moved his hand from Ignis' jaw to his hair, grabbing a handful and jerking his head back to witness the devastation in front of them. Ignis watched helplessly, the expression of horror on Aranea's face more than he could bear.

_This can't be happening. How can this be happening?_

Ardyn, knelt down with his chin perched on Ignis' shoulder, cackled gleefully. "Now watch. This is something you don't want to miss."

Ignis had no choice. He watched wide-eyed and petrified as Aranea became distorted and disfigured. Her eyes bugged and changed to a demonic, glowing shade of yellow. Her pale skin transformed into some sort of scaly, jet-black texture and a black substance oozed from the lacerations on her arms, legs, and face from where the branches had assaulted her. She was no longer crying, her agonizing screams replaced with a haunting groan.

"Aranea!" Ignis cried out.

Ardyn clucked his tongue in dismay. "You poor fool. She doesn't know who you are. You're nothing but a stranger to her anymore."

She was released from the trees and fell to the ground with a loud _thud_ , but it did little to faze her. Aranea was immediately back up on her feet and her eyes locked onto Ignis as she dragged and limped her way over to him.

"Oh my. As I'm sure you're aware, I do love a good tragic story. It looks like you have a choice to make: Free the Commodore from herself? Or perish at the hands of the woman you never got to tell you loved?"

Ardyn waited to free Ignis from his clutches until Aranea was practically on them. When he did let go, he pushed Ignis right into Aranea's path and stepped aside to watch as she finished his dirty work. She reached down and wrapped her hand around Ignis' neck, lifting him so his feet were barely touching the ground. He kicked vainly and tried to pry her hand away with both of his, but her strength had multiplied ten-fold.

"Ara . . . nea . . . Please . . . ," he gasped, his heart breaking at the fact any semblance of cognizance was gone. She had no idea who he was and it was clear she wanted him dead.

"There's no sense in rationalizing with her, Ignis. She's a daemon now, and one of my better ones if I do say so myself!" Ardyn sounded proud of his handiwork.

She wouldn't let go and he was starting to see black spots in his vision as he was slowly deprived of oxygen. "P-please . . . Aran. . . ea. . . don't . . . do this . . .I . . . need . . ."

Her voice was no longer the one he recognized, replaced with a monotonous and low growl of a tone. "Your words do nothing to affect me, worthless mortal. You shall not trick me with your pleas of hope and mercy. Now, it is time you die."

The spots were growing more intense within his sight and he struggled to hang on, but he couldn't. With one final motion, she gripped harder around his neck and suddenly—

"Wake up, Iggy! Snap out of it, you're having a nightmare again! Prompto, a little help here?"

"Help how?!"

"Grab his legs or something!"

"Where is she?" Ignis yelled, still half asleep.

"Wake up! There's no one here but me and Prompto! Dammit, Prompto, get your ass over here and help me!"

"I have to save her!"

"Save . . . who?" Prompto, now on the bed, managed between wrestling Ignis' lower half to the bed.

Slowly awakening, Ignis realized he was thrashing around, or at least he had been. Gladio's hands were holding both his arms down and he could feel Prompto trying, and failing, to pin his legs. Had he been screaming? His throat was a little sore as if he had been, but it was hard to tell.

"Come on, buddy, you're ok. You're safe in Lestallum. We got you," Prompto tried to soothe.

Ignis opened his eye and could sense that a light was on in the room, but other than that, he was plunged back into the world of darkness. It was all a bad dream.

He settled down, his eye darting back and forth wildly as he tried to stay calm. Every muscle in his body ached from the tension he must have put on them just now and it was hard to slow his breathing, but at least he was safe.

The two pairs of hands let him go and Ignis felt the bed sag as Gladio sat on the edge while Prompto scurried off to grab something from the kitchen. Water, probably.

"You awake now? Everything ok?" Gladio asked.

Ignis laid his arm across his face, inhaling through his nose and exhaling through his mouth. Normally he'd try to deny his friends' help and insist they leave him be, but it had been a long while since a nightmare of this magnitude forced them to wake him up. Getting Gladio and Prompto to go away would be futile.

Ignis was embarrassed. "I apologize. The commotion I've caused is inexcusable," he mumbled, drawing himself into a sitting position as Prompto nudged him with a glass of water. Ignis hadn't realized how dry his mouth was until he greedily gulped down the water, feeling the liquid cool his throat. He handed the glass back to the blonde who went back to get a refill.

Gladio cracked his knuckles. "Stop. You didn't do anything that warrants an apology. I was just getting ready to head out and Prompto was about to shower and go to bed. Honestly, your screaming came out of nowhere and scared the shit out of us, so if you want to apologize for anything, maybe you can for that," he smiled softly, trying to make light of the situation. Prompto came back with another glass of water and, sure enough, Ignis downed that one too, but held a hand up to show he didn't want another.

As the glass was passed back to him, Prompto brought it back to the kitchen sink and then stood in the doorway, concerned. "What was your dream about? Was it about Altissia again?"

Ignis silently shook his head. Gladio looked at Prompto and then back at Ignis. "Who was the 'she' you kept screaming about? 'She' needed to be saved?"

Prompto observed Ignis shift uncomfortably, not willing to admit what, or whom, the dream was about. However, from everything he'd keyed in on lately and the conversation with Aranea not too long ago, he could predict who needed saving in the dream. Prompto needed to divert the subject. "Hey, Gladdy? Aren't you going to be late for daemon duty?"

Gladio looked at the clock on the wall and his eyes widened. "Shit, yeah. You're right. You would think time wouldn't be a huge thing in this day and age, but Cor is adamant about the stupid regularity of these shifts. That man is going to be the death of me. Whatever," he complained, patting Ignis on the leg as he stood up and grabbed his greatsword. "You gonna be ok, Iggy?"

A restrained nod did little to quell Gladio's worries, but he had to get going or risk the wrath of the Marshal. He bade the two men goodbye and gave Prompto a look that signaled his frustration at not being able to do more for Ignis. Wordlessly, Prompto returned a resigned expression and waved as Gladio closed the door.

"Still there, Prompto?" Ignis asked hoarsely, sleep still caught in his throat.

"Yeah, buddy. I'm here. I was going to jump in the shower, but I can sit here for a bit if you need me to."

There was an unspoken bond between the two that truly formed after the events of Altissia. While Gladio was panicking over his failed duties being a King's Shield and Noctis was mourning the loss of his betrothed, Prompto was doing whatever he could to make Ignis' life easier after the loss of his sight. He did so in a way that didn't further humiliate Ignis and backed off when he knew he needed space. One of the things that came about during this time, especially during the height of Ignis' night terrors, was that Prompto would stay in the room, quietly playing games on his phone until Ignis fell back asleep. It was a small gesture on Prompto's part, but for some reason, it really helped Ignis during that time when he really needed someone to lean on. He knew, if asked, Gladio or Noctis would have done the same, but Prompto never needed to be asked and he went a step further by pretending that nothing of the sort happened when morning came.

This time, Ignis waved Prompto away. "I'll be fine tonight, though I appreciate the offering. Go get cleaned up and get some rest. I'm sure you're ready for sleep about now."

Prompto scrupled the notion. His mind insisted he stay, but the wretched odor from actively being out the last day or so said otherwise. "Well . . . ok. I can leave the light on if you want. I know it doesn't do a _whole_ lot of good, but at least it's something, right? I won't be long so if you need anything, just yell and I'll come running in, ok?"

He waited for Ignis to acknowledge him or dismiss him—one of the two. When neither happened and Ignis just stared straight ahead, Prompto took that as his cue to leave, shutting the door to the bathroom behind him.

When Ignis heard the sound of the shower, he knew he was alone once more with only his thoughts to keep him company. Sometimes he liked it that way, but tonight was different. The feelings he was experiencing weren't something he wanted to admit to Prompto, and he knew if Gladio stuck around for a second longer, he'd detect something was amiss.

Ignis settled back into bed, pulling the covers up over his shoulders as he laid on his side, facing the lamp on the nightstand. He could sense the light and that alone comforted him right now. These nightmares were crushing and often left Ignis feeling humiliated that they affected him this much. It didn't matter how many times Noctis, Prompto, or Gladio reassured him that this was normal, considering everything that had happened to him, it didn't make it any easier or make him feel any better.

But this nightmare was different. This nightmare scared him more than all the others. At least the other ones he had were relatively the same: desperation, finding an escape route, running smack dab into Ardyn (or Ardyn catching him before he can get away), and let the torturing commence. Sometimes he'd relive the moment his eyesight was so cruelly taken away and other times he was brutalized and persecuted for not giving up any information on the Kings of Lucis, the Gods, or Noctis himself.

Ignis had those dreams so often that it was almost commonplace and expected a few times a week. At least those didn't cause him to wake in a panic anymore. Sure, he'd still wake up with a racing heart, but it was much easier to fall back asleep now than it had been before. They were terrifying, but at least they were only about him. He could deal with that.

This nightmare, however, took someone he really cared for and made them the target. And he had to watch. And listen. Never before had Noctis, Gladio, or Prompto been in his dreams, so this was entirely new to him.

Hearing Aranea's tearful scream was more painful to him than any physical strike he'd ever endured. It hurt him to the core and, even now, he wanted to run down the hall just to make sure she was alright. Logically, yes, he knew she was; Illogically, no, she was probably dead or a daemon waiting just outside the door.

Luckily, he was mostly a logical person.

He had another thought in that moment, one that brought him back to when he was a teenager. Ignis had only been in love once in his life. It was in high school and she was his first girlfriend. First date, first kiss, first everything. He said he loved her at the time and she replied that she did, too, but love can only get two ambitious high schoolers so far—especially when one was determined to go away for university and the other was destined to stand by the future king's side for all eternity.

Looking back, maybe it wasn't love. Puppy love, maybe? It certainly didn't feel like what he was feeling now and what he thought he'd felt for some time now. Who knows; maybe he didn't _love_ Aranea, but it was very clear he had feelings. Or maybe he did love her? Aren't dreams just a manifestation of your subconscious? It would explain a lot if that was the case.

What he knew for sure was that he didn't want anything to happen to her. She was a grown woman and an extremely capable fighter—way stronger and much agiler than he was at this point in time—but it didn't assuage any new fears brought on from this bad dream. He knew if he even hinted anything to her, she'd smack him upside the head and call him an idiot. For now, he'd have to try and pretend like everything was alright.

Despite all the misery, there was something good that came from his nightmare this time, though, and he cherished that over all else.

He got to see Aranea and truly appreciate how beautiful she really was.

* * *

 

Ignis stumbled over a tree root and fell backward, unable to break his fall and landing hard on his back.

"What the hell is wrong with you today, Ignis?" Aranea chastised, using his real name and not a nickname like she normally did. She was not happy in the slightest.

The two were back on the outskirts of Lestallum in the lit field, the target papers still pinned to the trees. Their old lot had officially been taken over by medics and their patients as more citizens attempted to take on daemons on their own, despite Cor's demand that everyone leave the daemon hunting and missions to the professionals. People were just restless and wanting something to do, but this was not the way to cure boredom.

For Ignis, he only wished he was as bored and restless as the rest of the citizens. Lately, the nightmares wouldn't go away. Every night it was something different, but still relatively the same: Aranea tortured, Ignis forced to watch, and, somehow, she'd wind up a daemon and attempt to kill him—all the while, Ardyn finding the entire scene beyond comical. Ignis would always wake up in a cold sweat, sometimes kicking and screaming, sometimes not.

This afternoon was the first time that Ignis and Aranea had met up since the nightmares began and he was failing miserably in every aspect of their sparring. He was falling more, missing easy shots, and allowed hits in when he could usually block them as of late. Simply put, he was an all-around mess. Aranea immediately took notice.

Ignis wasn't in the mood to hear her chastise him so he got up from the ground and walked a short distance away, ripping his glasses off and running a hand down the length of his face in vexation. How could he tell her everything that was going on? She wasn't a girl who particularly cared for emotions and she also made it abundantly clear she only saw him as a friend; two of the big issues that he was battling inside right now.

"You're way off your game today and I can't for the life of me figure out why. You don't look sick, you don't get sent on missions or hunts so I know you're not injured, you never get hangry, and I'm pretty sure you're not a major caffeine addict anymore since Ebony production was discontinued, so it can't be caffeine withdrawals. So, what is it? Because honestly, you're pissing me off right now and, frankly, you're wasting my time."

Ignis replaced the glasses over his eyes and felt her presence behind him, her hands probably on her hips. "I haven't been sleeping much lately," he half-lied.

"Well, get it together," she snapped. "None of us are sleeping much lately, so join the club. Now, grab your daggers and fight me like you've actually learned something from all of this."

Ignis' mouth fixed into a grim line. He didn't _want_ to fight. He didn't _want_ to do anything. Everything between what he was sure of and what confused him blurred into one big jumbled mess in his mind. Still, he didn't want to piss off the Commodore any more than he already had today. Yet, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't pull it together to call this practice a success. It was like he'd reverted back to when he was first blind with the way he was fighting today.

After the final mistake he made, Aranea threw her weapon down, aggravated, and stormed over to Ignis. "Ok, seriously, what the hell is wrong with you today. Did I do something? Or did you wake up this morning and decide to absolutely suck?"

"No, you didn't do anything, I promise. I . . . I just— "

She cut him off. "Don't you dare use the tired excuse again because, out of everyone, you're the one getting the most rest around here. You're sitting pretty, all comfy cozy in your hotel room, while the rest of us fight for our lives out there in Eos."

That was unexpected. It struck a nerve with Ignis and he laughed caustically. "Oh, _forgive me_ for my lack of assistance. Let me regale you with a tale that I like to call, 'I'm blind and no one wants me outside Lestallum city limits,'" he retorted with all the resentment he could muster. He may have been holed up safely in the hotel room but not by choice, and it was cruel for Aranea to insinuate that he was doing so on his own accord. Of everyone, he assumed she knew his feelings on the situation best, so this was entirely out of left field for him.

She jabbed a finger into his chest, the friction between the two rising. "I'm here working my ass off to help you for when the Prince returns- _if_ he'll return— "

" _When_ he returns," Ignis corrected.

"Oh, whatever! You don't even know that. You're so blinded by loyalty that you can't even wrap your head around the notion that Noctis may actually be gone for good. What, because the Marshal said so, it's going to happen? Get a grip, Ignis."

How could she even insinuate that there was a chance that Noct wouldn't return? "No," he forced through gritted teeth, "because the Prophecy stated it would."

She cried out in frustration, tossing her head back to scream to the sky. "Fuck the Prophecy! Fuck the Marshal, fuck the Prince, fuck this world and all these daemons and the endless darkness and you know what? For good measure, fuck you, too. With your steadfast allegiance and your stupid pragmatism and . . . just . . . fuck!"

Her words were biting like she almost meant them. Ignis wondered if she did, or if maybe she was beginning to crack under all the pressure she was under. Next to Cor, Aranea was second-in-command at ensuring everything ran smoothly in Lestallum. She was tasked with more missions than anyone and, on top of that, she always made sure to carve out time to help Ignis relearn to fight. It stung to hear and he flinched at every last word dripping with extreme bitterness.

Ignis reached out to her, hoping she didn't mean any of what she'd just said, but she had already turned her back on him. He heard her pick up her weapon and cast it away into thin air. She sighed sadly. "Sorry, Ignis. I-I . . . I can't do this right now. I need a break," she muttered before stalking away but stopped short just at the edge of the area. Something, or someone, blocked her path. She groaned, exasperated, before continuing past what stood between here and much-needed solitude.

Ignis stood in the middle of the field, staring blankly, wondering what had her so annoyed as she stormed away.

"I've been looking for you . . . I couldn't find you in the room so I got worried," a gruff voice said.

Ignis' heart fell.

It was Gladio.

Ignis didn't even bother to make a move. He heard Gladio slowly step forward and he wasn't sure whether he was angry or upset. Ignis imagined a mix of both.

"I had no idea you were out here training to fight. All those times you said you were going on walks . . ."

Ignis pinched the bridge of his nose, mentally trying to ward off an impending migraine. "Please, not now. I don't need this from you, too."

The air was tense as Gladio finally came face-to-face with his friend. "Why didn't you just say something instead of lie to our faces? We—Prompto and I—could have helped you. Instead, you go to _Aranea_?"

"When, Gladio?" Ignis asked. "When should I have requested your help? When you both were running in and out of the Levelle, day after day? When you were returning from a 36-hour shift of guard duty? Or when you and Prompto made the decision for me to stay back because it was safer and easier for you?" Ignis was growing tired of the hostility that this day seemed to harbor and could feel the anger welling up inside him, but he pushed it down. The last thing he wanted, or needed, was to have someone else irritated with him. Normally, he didn't care, but it was just too much with everything else weighing on him.

"So, what? Were you just going to keep training until you thought you were good enough to go out on your own? Did you think we wouldn't find out? I . . . I just don't understand. We've been friends since we were kids. I thought you knew you could come to me for anything. And you hide _this_? Why?"

Ignis crossed his arms over his chest defensively, taking a step away to create some distance. "I did what I had to do to prepare for Noct's inevitable return. I need to ensure that I am ready and able upon his arrival. You had no qualms about me leaving me behind if it eased your mind, but you of all people should know the duty we are bound by for the sake of our Future King."

"You want to talk roles and duty?" Gladio replied, offended. "Have you forgotten that it's _my_ duty to keep, not only Noct but you and Prompto safe as well? Goddamn Ignis, you make it seem like I _want_ you to stay cooped up in that damn room. We're not out there fighting your typical, run-of-the-mill monsters and daemons. It's not a game!"

"I never implied at any time that it was!"

"You don't get it. It's hard enough when you're willing and able to get out there, so I can't imagine that being blind— "

"Stop right there," Ignis interrupted. "No, you can't. You can't imagine how it feels to be blind because you're not, and yet you dare to profess that you understand. You have no idea, none, the hell I've been through or what I've done to get to where I am now. Aranea has been the _one_ person who has seen me through this and has given me the strength and confidence I need to get back out there for Noct. I refuse to stand here and fake an apology just to— "

Before Ignis could finish his sentence, shrill screams erupted behind them within Lestallum. Both men turned around, alarmed. They waited for the noise to die down, thinking maybe a brawl of some sort erupted among a rowdy group of people, but it only got louder. Gladio took a step forward in anticipation. "What the hell is going on?"

"I'm . . . not sure . . ." Ignis mumbled, his ears trained toward the disturbance behind them. There was a crunching sound, like something grinding on metal, or was something trying to get into the fence by the power plant? Ignis was sure he also heard what sounded like barking and growling, but that couldn't be right . . .

Gladio's phone rang. Without looking at the caller ID, he picked it up. "Hello?"

"Gladio. Get down to the Central District right now," Cor demanded, his voice as even as it could be given whatever was going on, speaking over the pandemonium.

"Marshal, what's going on?"

Before Cor could respond, the screams grew louder and suddenly the entire city went dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Wow, I can't believe I got this chapter done so fast! I have a lot to do on Saturday, so I really planned ahead for this chapter, knowing I'd be swamped with stuff to do. I hope you don't mind a non-Sunday update :)
> 
> On another note, holy crap! The last chapter saw the most views, visitors, and feedback I've ever received. Seriously, seeing how much you all like this story and the reactions I get on it . . . wow. I can't thank you all enough. From the bottom of my heart, I am so grateful for all the love and support.


	9. See What I've Become

**Water Under the Bridge  
See What I've Become**

"Marshal? Marshal, are you there?"

Somehow, the connection between Gladio and Cor had been dropped and Gladio was talking to silence.

"What's happening?" Ignis asked, acutely aware of the darkness that befell the city. The people of Lestallum screamed, their cries carrying into the night sky. The echo of the barking continued to stand out to him and Ignis turned back to Gladio who was still standing behind him, attempting to reconnect with Cor. "Do you hear that?"

Gladio looked up from his phone and turned his head uncertainly. "What? The people?"

"No, that barking noise. You honestly can't hear that? It's faint, but I hear it and it's getting louder," he paused and held a finger up to keep Gladio silent, listening intently. "I believe . . . it's reminiscent of . . . Cerberus?"

Gladio balked. "You mean the daemon canine of the underworld? That's impossible. How the hell would he get here?"

Ignis listened for a fraction of a second longer and frowned. "Cerberus is a strong daemon. It is my understanding from my previous studies that light can only hold it back so long. It's . . . possible . . . that it gnawed at the main power lines into the city, but that is merely a theory. Either way . . ."

Gladio clenched his teeth. "Are you confident that's what it is?" he asked, though he secretly hoped that Ignis would shrug it off and say he was joking.

Ignis nodded. "Fairly certain. That barking is quite distinctive. It also doesn't sound like just one bark, either, which would coincide with the three head that Cerberus is rumored to have."

Of all the daemons throughout Eos, this was not one that anyone was looking forward to meeting. A long sigh, then: "I need to go," Gladio looked at Ignis' outline wearily, his eyesight adjusting somewhat in the dark. "You get back to the Levelle and wait there until the all clear is sounded. I'll come get you when everything is safe."

As Gladio tried to walk around Ignis, he was impeded when Ignis sidestepped right in his way.

"No."

The large man drew back at the refusal. "What do you mean, 'No'? Have the last five minutes of our conversation meant _nothing_ to you? I need you to stay safe and I can't have you running into battle just to prove something to yourself!"

Ignis angled his chin up slightly, standing tall. "No, Gladio. You _need_ me. Out of everyone, I'm the only one who's used to the darkness." He hesitated before stating his next words, knowing he was heading into sticky territory bringing up old wounds. "I know you're distraught over what happened in Altissia and I know you still place blame on yourself for not saving me, but you can't let that stop me from fighting. You have to let me go. Let me show you that you have nothing to worry about."

Gladio's face was full of anxiety and worry. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes and snarled under his breath. He moved his hands from his eyes and ran them through his hair and interlocked them behind the back of his neck, exhaling loudly. After a moment, he looked up again and stared at Ignis. Although there was no light, Gladio could easily see a fledgling confidence in Ignis' stance and it scared Gladio deeply. He'd already lost the boy he trained to be a King—he didn't want to lose his best friend, too.

Finally, he reluctantly ceded his position on the issue. "Well, I guess we have a city to save," he muttered, defeated, as he turned the dial of the flashlight on his shirt to 'on', reaching over and doing the same for Ignis. It wouldn't help Ignis, per se, but it would provide another light source for Gladio and, right now, he'd take all the light he could get.

Ignis nodded once and stepped out of the way, extending an arm in front of him. "Lead the way and I'll follow."

Gladio grumbled again, hoping he wasn't making a huge mistake but knowing he really had no choice in the matter anymore. As he walked ahead, he stopped and turned around, realizing something was missing. "Wait, your cane?"

A humble smile spread across Ignis' lips. "I've been learning to get by without it. One of Aranea's requirements in our training," he replied casually. "I just ask that you walk ahead so I may listen for your footsteps. I trust you won't lead me astray. That is unless you secretly lead me back to the Levelle under the guise that we're seeking out Cerberus."

Gladio blinked, gathering that there was so much he'd missed out on when it came to Ignis since they first came back to Lestallum. "If we make it through this, we'll definitely have a lot to catch up on."

"Well, we better make sure we fight as though tomorrow is promised."

"Sounds like a plan," Gladio agreed. He gestured for Ignis to follow, knowing he'd be privy to the motion. "What are we waiting for? Let's go!"

As Gladio blindly raced ahead, the dark proving to be somewhat of a challenge to navigate through, Ignis tried hard to keep up by listening to Gladio's steps. It was a lot more difficult than he originally thought, especially without his cane to guide him from any errant obstacles. He slowed tremendously, his heart pounding and his head swimming as he started to doubt himself. Was he so stubborn that he couldn't just accept that things wouldn't ever be the same? That, no matter how long he trained with Aranea and no matter how hard he tried to get by without his cane, it didn't change the fact that he'd forever be blind and half the fighter—or, in the greater sense, man? —that he used to be.

He remembered when he tried his hand at taking on danger on his own and it landed him in a failed fight against a hobgoblin with Aranea coming to his aid at the last second. That fight happened ages ago, but it didn't feel that far in the past at all. Ignis hoped he'd come far enough from that day to avoid another similar scenario.

A hand on his forearm jolted him from his reflections. As if Gladio had read his mind, he returned from where he'd ventured briefly up ahead and pulled him along. "Giving up already? After that rousing speech of yours to come along? Not on my watch," he heartened. "C'mon, don't make me regret giving in to your demands."

Ignis stumbled along, dragged by Gladio into Lestallum and through the streets. He adeptly navigated them both through the throngs of people as they stampeded the opposite way that Gladio and Ignis were headed. The city devolved into a hysterical madhouse.

"Gladio! Over here," Cor called out, standing on a small stack of crates with both hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. Gladio and Ignis both turned to Cor and Gladio pulled Ignis along. "Gladio . . . and Ignis?" the Marshal trailed off, confused.

"Marshal." Ignis stood at attention with his arms fixed firmly by his side, Gladio having let go of his arm upon their approach.

"I trust you understand what we're up against?" Cor inquired, still skeptical. It was unusual to have Ignis around lately, but Cor knew him well enough to know that he wouldn't come unless he was certain of the risk he was taking.

"Marshal, what the _hell_ is going on?!" another voice—Aranea's—demanded over the roar of the stampede. She pushed through to where Gladio, Ignis, and Cor were gathered. At first, she didn't notice Ignis standing with the other two, but her eyes flickered upon seeing him when her flashlight caught his figure standing to the side. "Ignis, how . . . what the . . ."

Cor snapped her attention back to him. "Commodore, we have a situation."

"Well, no shit! I think the masses running through the streets was my first clue," she retorted, motioning to the scene around them.

Prompto ran in from behind with Talcott and Iris in tow. Iris had a flashlight in hand while Prompto had led the way with his own light source pinned to his shirt. "Got here as quick as I—oh hey, Iggy! What are you doing here?" Even in the midst of danger, Prompto's voice was always cheerful, even if he had to strain sometimes to show it.

As Cor opened his mouth to explain everything, he was cut off by Ignis stepping forward. "Marshal, if I may?" he addressed Cor, turning everyone's eyes to him.

The Marshal crossed his arms and narrowed his eyes. "We don't have much time, but yes, please."

"I believe we may be facing Cerberus, the daemon of the underworld—an extremely large, three-headed canine that tends to favor fire spells." Although Ignis was unable to see everyone around him, he still spoke to each one as if he could.

"Go on . . ." Cor pressed for Ignis to continue.

"This could be a straightforward match if we use the elemental spell it is weakest against. Do we have any blizzard spells in our repertoire?"

Iris shook her head, always one to keep track of the magic and the items within their ownership. "We haven't had any magic in our stock for a while now. It hasn't been something on the top of our things to grab when we go on missions," she explained.

Cor nodded stoically and Ignis rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Shame. Then it looks like we may have to stick to physical attacks. I remember reading that their hind legs are particularly vulnerable, but that'll be a hard target if Cerberus remains engaged, eyes forward, as they usually do."

Gladio had his eyes closed as he listened. "So, what do we do?"

Cor stepped in. "First of all, we need to get the people to safety. I'll take Iris and evacuate everyone to the outskirts of the city. The rest of you work together. Focus on keeping the daemon contained within a certain area. The less damage we have to deal with, the better. Ignis, you seem to have a good idea of what we're up against, so I leave the delegation to you."

Everyone, including Ignis, started to protest. "Enough!" Cor commanded, bringing instant silence to the team. "We don't have _time_ to argue about this. Let's just focus on taking this thing down. Iris, come with me. Everyone else, move out."

Cor stepped off the crate he was standing on and disappeared into the crowd. Iris reached forward and gave Gladio's arm a squeeze. They smiled at each other before she followed. Then, all eyes turned to Ignis. He stood, paralyzed.

Just an hour ago, he was arguing—no, fighting—with Aranea. Then, he was debating with Gladio all the reasons why he should be allowed to fight alongside everyone again. And now, just because he had spent a great deal of time studying daemons in school and throughout his life, everyone expected him to dole out directions?

Before his injury and before Altissia, Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto _always_ looked to him for guidance, so this shouldn't feel like anything new. Did he really _need_ the ability to see in order to guide everyone, especially when he was confident in his abilities to recall Cerberus' strengths and weaknesses? With the city plunged into darkness, was he not on the same playing field as the rest of them, all blind and ready for battle?

"Ignis?" Gladio prompted, his confidence in the man starting to, regrettably, wane the longer the silence stretched.

_I've trained for this._

Ignis took a deep breath. "Yes, right. Prompto, you and Talcott will hang back and use your firearms to attack the head. Talcott, you will be there to use potions and elixirs if anyone goes down, understood?"

He faced Gladio's direction next. "I don't think I even need to begin to tell you where you'll be necessitated."

"Hack and slash. Got it," Gladio gave a thumbs-up as the growling of the daemon dog intensified. Cerberus was on a rampage, thirsting for the blood of the people. They were running out of time.

Finally, Ignis turned to Aranea behind him. He hesitated, unsure of how she'd react to any instruction he'd give her. Was she still mad at him? Would she take kindly to his commands? She was, technically, a high-ranking official in an apocalyptic world where rankings weren't even necessary, but kept around for familiarity's sake. Then, there was the whole fight they'd gotten into, still fresh in his mind. "Aranea—"

"I'll just follow your lead, Specs." There was no reluctance in her voice. She trusted him completely and Ignis felt relief.

He heard the sounds of weapons materializing into everyone's possession and he, too, called his own weapon to his hand. He planned to start out with his lance, but his daggers were also there for him when the time came.

Ignis didn't need to dismiss everyone because they already knew their places. One by one, they fell in line behind each other and ran into battle just a couple of blocks away. This time, Prompto lagged and jogged together with him, keeping one hand on his shoulder and cracking jokes along the way. It was Prompto's way of easing the tension and fear. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't, but Ignis found himself smiling while still trying to remain focused on the path before them. Luckily, the citizens of this block had cleared themselves out already, fearful for their lives, so there was no one for Ignis to smack into.

Aranea slowed down as well and ran alongside the pair, letting Gladio and Talcott take the lead. "Think you can handle this, Four Eyes?" He didn't want to answer her, so he kept jogging in silence.

Ahead, there was more commotion and a loud bang. "Guys! Heads up!" Gladio yelled as he pulled Talcott into a side alleyway behind a dumpster. A fireball lit up the area and rocketed right for the team. Prompto pushed Ignis, who in turn fell into Aranea, against the wall, narrowly avoiding the attack. The building behind them took the hit and erupted into flames, sending a blast of heat radiating past them.

"Shit, where did that come from?" Aranea asked to no one in particular as Prompto shielded both her and Ignis.

Ignis, pressed against the brick wall, tried to hone in on where he heard the most noise. He shut out everything else, or at least tried to, and listened for Cerberus. "It sounded like it came from— "

He didn't get to finish his sentence because there was a deafening crash just yards from them, close to where Gladio and Talcott had taken shelter. Cerberus now towered over the entire street, separating them from the open lot. It sounded like it had jumped down from a rooftop above. At ten—maybe fifteen—stories tall, with three heads and razor sharp teeth dripping with drool and saliva, Cerberus was raring to go.

Cerberus must have heard movement coming from behind the dumpster because every head abruptly snapped over and rammed the container forcefully. There was little resistance against the weight of Cerberus' thrust. Even Gladio wasn't strong enough to hold it back for long.

"We need to draw that thing away from Gladio and Talcott!" Prompto insisted, aiming his gun precariously at one of the monster's head.

Aranea, barely able to make out the beast in the dark but sharp enough to understand its head from its tail, threw her spear into the beast's belly. It howled in anguish and rocked back onto its hind legs and, as it slammed its front paws back onto the ground, it turned its fury on the trio, snarling and snapping at them menacingly.

"Great job, genius!" Prompto exclaimed sarcastically as they sprinted away, running right back into the city where they came from.

"We need to get Cerberus as far away from the citizens and the bulk of the city as we can," Ignis stopped them and turned to Aranea on his right as Cerberus was right behind them. "Take us down some back roads so we can circle back to Gladio and maybe to that lot."

Almost instantly, she seized his forearm and pulled him down the next side street they came across as Prompto chased after them. There was a loud crash as Cerberus skidded around the corner and it was back in pursuit. Keep the daemon following them and it won't feel the need to go after any innocents in the city.

"Are we just letting him chase us until one of us gives up?" Aranea shouted, bearing right down another street. Prompto stumbled but recovered quickly. He shot a few bullets heedlessly over his shoulder and heard the daemon growl as one, or a few, bullets hit it, but it did little in the way of slowing it down. The three had a hard time running in the dark, but Ignis fared much better and it did not go unnoticed.

"I guess the darkness hasn't affected at least _one_ of us," Prompto pointed out, barely tripping over a pallet thrown precariously in the middle of the alley.

Another street and one more and they found themselves emptied right into the same lot that Ignis and Aranea used to practice in early in the morning. Gladio and Talcott called for them and they hastily convened in the middle as Cerberus barreled out of the alley and right toward them, another fire spell leaving each of the mouths and spiraling in their direction. Ignis dove to the ground, bringing his hands up behind his head as the fireballs only just missed him.

He felt the ground reverberate and knew Cerberus was charging at him. Ignis rolled numerous times and scrambled to his feet, throwing his daggers in succession in the direction of the monster. He smirked when he heard a howl, his daggers having hit their target. Aranea's target papers and practice were paying off.

"Ignis, back here!" Gladio called from behind a slab of concrete that had been knocked from a nearby building.

"Stop standing around and get moving, Specs!" Right then, he felt Aranea's familiar hand grab his arm again and start to drag him away to where Gladio's voice originated.

She urgently pushed him and he skidded behind the protective slab, sliding a bit more than he anticipated as his shoes could not grip well enough against the layer of dust and debris that coated the stone ground. Aranea returned to the battlefield without a moment's rest.

Gladio slapped him on the shoulder supportively. Ignis recalled his daggers to his control. "Where are the others?"

Gladio peeked over the top of the barrier between them and Cerberus and immediately ducked back as more flames were headed their way. The fire could be used to their advantage as it lit up the lot, turning everything into a literal inferno. "Talcott gave Prompto a Phoenix Down. He got hit with the last round of fireballs so they're to our left."

"And Aranea?" Ignis questioned, a hint of worry in his tone. He knew she'd bolted as soon as she pushed him behind the concrete, but he was unable to distinguish her voice or the sound of her weapon clashing in the fray.

"She's fine. She's up on the rooftop and— " Gladio was cut off when a battle cry careened down from the sky and a shockwave pulsed from near Cerberus where Aranea landed a vicious attack "—never mind, she's back now."

Ignis peered from the side of the rock and launched a few more daggers at the canine before switching to his lance, feeling like the daggers weren't damaging enough against the muscular daemon from this distance. Gladio watched briefly before chuckling in amazement. "How are you—?"

Ignis pushed his glasses up as sweat caused them to slip down his nose. "One skill I've honed is my ability to hear and sense the enemy." A grunt and another carefully aimed throw of his weapon. "I listen." Another throw. "And I wait." He threw another lance but wildly missed. Gladio hummed his displeasure and Ignis rolled his eye. "Well, I can't always be expected to make a perfect shot."

A few gunshots were heard from the other end of the courtyard—Prompto back in the fray—and Cerberus set off to find the source of the shots, barking and growling the entire time. Gladio and Ignis heard Talcott begin to scream in fear, but was immediately silenced when someone—probably Prompto, or maybe Aranea—brought their hand up to his mouth. Gladio shouldered his greatsword and yelled behind him. "I'll take that as a good indicator to get my ass out there."

Ignis heard him hurdle over the slab of concrete and dart toward Cerberus. He used the loud howling and barking as a guide for where to aim his next attack. Ignis knew his throws could use some work, but anything was better than nothing at this point. Another loud breath of fire overtook the entire quad and Ignis, once again, ducked for cover with his hands interlocked over the back of his head in a feeble attempt to protect himself.

Someone slid next to him, barely crashing into him and knocking him over. "Hey, buddy! How we doin'?" Prompto's ever-cheerful voice asking over the roar of the flames around them. Right behind him came Talcott, who scooted close to the two men and allowed Prompto to pull him close with an arm around his shoulders, fear evident on his face.

Ignis stayed low, his back firmly pressed against the concrete. "I suppose I could be better, but nonetheless— "A bark and Aranea's frustrated screams gave Ignis pause before he finished his sentence. "It feels good to be here."

"You're nuts," Prompto said as he loaded more bullets into the chamber of his gun, unloading round after round until a _click_ told him he needed to reload again.

Another person ran behind the shelter with them and gasped for breath. "Hey, Little Guy," Aranea panted, "want to throw a hi-potion my way? I'm kinda bleeding out over here."

Talcott, still so unaccustomed to a battle of this proportion, shook uncontrollably as he reached into a bag slung across his chest for a hi-potion. Aranea, bleeding heavily from a gash across her chest, immediately took the potion and felt instant reprieve, though it was obvious the injury continued to cause immense discomfort. She looked at Ignis and patted him on the shoulder. "Still alright?"

"Doing my best," he replied, waving her off. "And you?"

She noticed he was gesturing toward where he assumed she'd been hurt. "Oh, yeah. No, this is nothing. Don't worry about me."

"I always worry about you," he smirked, earning a shy, yet slightly annoyed, smile in return from her and a knowing glance from Prompto.

"Well, stop. I'm a big girl. I can handle myself," she reassured. Before Ignis could say anything else, she left him and the other two behind, using her spear as leverage to vault her back into action as Gladio nimbly moved under the paws of the monster, using his greatsword to hack at its legs and underbelly at every opportunity.

Prompto, Ignis, and Talcott remained behind, using their weapons and distance to their advantage. Prompto began to call out directions to Ignis when Cerberus moved too much and he learned when the daemon was about ready to turn the lot into a literal hell with his fire spells by the way it began to rear its three heads high into the night sky. He'd call out for Ignis to get down and, soon enough, Ignis was able to hear for these cues without Prompto's warning.

Every so often, Gladio or Aranea would return for another potion and, once, Prompto had to grab a Phoenix Down and run it out to Gladio as he'd nearly been crushed to death when Cerberus stomped down on him unexpectedly. While it seemed like they were making some progress, everyone worried because the longer Cerberus stayed alive, the more wreckage it caused as it raged on and on. Luckily, they were keeping the beast away from the heart of the city and contained to the lot.

Whenever Cerberus fell vulnerable, everyone would swiftly deal as much damage as they could before it could rise back up and riot again. As it grew weaker, it became more desperate to kill. At one point, after another bout of vulnerability and after everyone had already backed off to safety, it whirled around and brought a large paw out, sideswiping anyone and anything in its path. Ignis happened to be right in the middle of its track and was thrown, rather easily, through the air and against the wall of a nearby building. The power of the blow nearly knocked him out and he laid there, unable to find the strength to move a single muscle.

He faintly heard Aranea call out to Talcott to toss her a Phoenix Down as she was closest to Ignis. Talcott complied and soon Aranea was by the advisor's side, dragging him to the nearby alleyway so she could administer the concoction as she knelt and pulled him into her lap. It took a minute to settle in, but Ignis felt life return to him and he moved sluggishly on her lap, slowly sitting up.

"And you're worried about _me_?" she teased, helping him to his feet and examining him for any grievous injuries, but only finding superficial cuts and scrapes for how hard he hit the wall. She steadied him before letting go.

He brought a hand to his head, a little dizzy but still good enough to stand on his own. "How much more life do you think it has left?"

Aranea peered out from the corner of the alleyway, the heat from the fire causing her to swelter. "I'm not sure. I feel like we get it down on the ground, but it's not enough. Something's not right. There has to be another part of it that is weak because that thing should be dead by now."

Aranea was right; for how long the battle had raged on, Cerberus should have been dead by now. Ignis tried to recall more about Cerberus from what he learned back during his studies. He was undoubtedly forgetting something. He remembered how to get it at its most vulnerable with attacks from behind, he remembered its penchant for fire spells, but there was one major piece to the puzzle he was having trouble remembering. Why on Eos was that one tidbit of information so elusive?

More gunshots rang out in between Gladio's yelling and Ignis knew Aranea was staring at him. Suddenly, he snapped his head up. "No, I've had it all wrong," he said, mentally chiding himself for overlooking the most obvious. "Aranea, I've got an idea, but we need Gladio here as well."

Aranea raised an eyebrow but didn't question Ignis' sudden scheme. She lingered until Gladio was close enough before running out and grabbing him, yanking him into the alleyway. Gladio looked confused until Ignis began to reveal his new plan. "I was mistaken before. It's his heads. In order to effectively rid ourselves of Cerberus, we need to take out the heads."

Gladio wiped blood and sweat away from his eyes. "Great idea, but how can we do that when he barely lets us run behind him for a blindside attack?"

Ignis shook his head. "We're not blindsiding him anymore. We're going in for a direct assault."

Aranea flicked her regard back and forth between both men as Gladio faltered. "Oh, hell no. No, no way. That's a death sentence waiting to happen. He's so large that I'm having a difficult time as it is trying to attack his body. There's no way I can run in and slit his throats or whatever while he's outright staring at me."

Aranea threw her stare back at Ignis and her eyes widened as the realization of his plan was dawning on her. "Wait . . . you're . . . "

Ignis' daggers appeared. "You're not going in. I am."

If Gladio wasn't shocked before, he was beyond alarmed now. "How the hell do you— "

"Your link strike with Noct, yes? I'm going to need you to pitch me directly onto Cerberus' back. We'll hold off until it's immobilized once more, but when that moment strikes . . ."

"Ignis, come on. You can't be serious. You're being ridiculous; there's no way!"

Aranea almost stepped in between the two. "Do we really have a choice at this point? We're running ourselves ragged right now and it's getting us nowhere. Let's try this plan and see what happens from there," she reasoned. Ignis hid a smile at her assent and could practically see the wheels in Gladio's head turning, trying to search for a way out of this stratagem. Once again, he found himself between a rock and a hard place—follow Ignis' lead as he charged into danger, or attempt to talk him out of it?

Gladio looked to Aranea for some sort of backup, silently pleading with his eyes for her to take his side, but she was firmly on Ignis' team. He growled his dissent. "So, I'll just throw you in when Cerberus is down again?" he verified wearily to a confirmatory nod from Ignis.

"Prompto will remain behind and continue to shoot from afar, should Cerberus decide to go rogue and buck the routine it's somewhat created for itself. Otherwise, yes; I'll attempt to use my daggers and slice at its most susceptible point at each neck." Ignis then directed his attention to Aranea. "I'll need you to be ready as well to attack the heads."

She nodded. "Sounds good."

There was silence between the three until Aranea cleared her throat. "Alright then. Plan settled? Then let's get this show on the road before Blondie dies _again_ before we get a chance to save him," she suggested. The two men nodded and Aranea and Gladio returned to the battlefield, with Ignis dropping behind to keep a safe distance as he continued his tactic of throwing daggers and lances, alternatively, at the daemon. He heard the sound of gunshots pause as either Aranea or Gladio informed Prompto of what was going to happen.

Ignis knew this would be a risky move on his part, but he had to take the chance. One false step and Cerberus would smash, devour, or catapult Ignis to his death. Gladio could certainly be the one to lob the heads of Cerberus off, but Ignis knew his daggers were much sharper and he was confident in his abilities at this point to stay agile and nimble on his feet to slice each neck quickly, particularly with Aranea by his side to assist.

With every passing moment, Ignis felt the fear in his chest mount considerably, but he swallowed that emotion and reassured himself that this would work. It had to. There was no other way.

He heard Cerberus fall once again and felt Gladio charge to his side. Ignis braced as Gladio's hand tentatively wrapped around his bicep. "Ready? Going up!"

Gladio spun Ignis around for momentum and flung him high into the air with Ignis pleading with the Six to let this plan work. Prompto fired off several more rounds but stopped on the off chance of landing any friendly fire. Aranea called out to Ignis and he arbitrarily threw a dagger her way, yelling for her to attack the head closest to her, whichever one that was, as he landed on the neck of another head.

A roar cut through the night and thunderous flames around them as Aranea ripped the dagger from one end of the neck to the other and Ignis could tell she attacked the far right head, judging by the sounds.

Deducing that he was on the far-left head, Ignis reached down and he, too, forcefully stabbed his dagger into the neck of the monster, feeling the blood gush angrily from the wound and seep through his clothing.

Then, the plan went awry.

Ignis knew Cerberus was up on its feet, much faster this time than it had ever been before when it fell defenseless. This wasn't supposed to happen. Cerberus was usually sentient for at least a few more seconds, but that was before they knew to attack its heads and necks. It whirled around and kicked Aranea away and Ignis dug his fingers deep into its fur so he wouldn't get thrown off. More sounds of crashing. More destruction. Cerberus had gone berserk.

Suddenly, Ignis lost hold of his grasp as he was hurled from the base of the Cerberus' neck. Ignis reached for anything he could as he spiraled through the air, knowing it was all in vain. Amid the calamity, one final thought came to him and, figuring he had nothing left to lose, he willed his lance to his possession and calmly listened for the cries of the monster. He knew he'd have to nail this shot as Cerberus made it clear it was ready to put an end to this. If he missed . . . well, he didn't want to think about what would happen if he missed.

Ignis waited for the right moment when he was facing the daemon in mid-air and he launched his lance at the—what he hoped was—the middle head.

He fell to the ground on his back, kicking his feet in front of him and skittering backward. Everything slowed infinitely. It was almost like time had stopped and he waited, praying for the weapon to hit.

Waited.

Waited.

And then . . .

There was one more final howl as the lance landed right between Cerberus' eyes. A revolting crunch sound of the sharp point meeting its skull. The stumbling of the daemon as it tried to remain upright and alive, rearing its middle head in agony.

Where was everyone? Was he the only one in the midst of the ruins? Ignis tensed up, waiting for imminent death as Cerberus, in its dying hour, would surely step or fall on him.

But it didn't. After what felt like forever, the ground around Ignis shook as the monster collapsed. Finally, everything stilled, save for the crackling embers and fires surrounding them.

There was no breathing or movement coming from the monster.

Nothing.

Ignis had delivered the final blow to end Cerberus.

The dust began to settle and there was a deafening silence, punctuated by the fires and everyone coughing and wheezing among the debris. Ignis rose to his feet in the middle of the destruction, the corpse of Cerberus just inches from him. He panted but realized things were not over yet. With the power off, any daemon could just waltz right into the city via the hole that Cerberus chewed into the chain-link fence.

Ignis went back into a leader-type role. "Talcott! Get to the power plant and see what can be done to salvage the wires of the lines. We need to restore power as soon as possible to prevent any daemons from entering. Take Prompto with you. Hurry!" he delegated, his voice carrying farther than he realized.

"Yes, sir!" Talcott nodded and saluted the man giving him directions, still shivering in fear. Of everyone, Talcott was the one who would know the mechanisms of the power plant and the damaged wires the best, so Ignis trusted him with successfully completing the task the most.

As Talcott scrambled to his feet, Prompto, not too far away, was visibly stunned. All he could do was stare through the fire and darkness at the outline of the advisor. He only moved when Talcott tugged at his arm, forcing him to get up. It took a moment to shake the shock he was reeling from, but when he did, he allowed Talcott to help him up and followed him to the power plant building. Prompto patted Ignis on the back, uttering his sincere gratitude as he passed by.

From behind, Gladio's eyes remained wide with shock. He could barely keep his grip on his greatsword. "Holy shit," he whispered, though it sounded so loud among the silence, "you did it."

Aranea's jaw was dropped as she pulled herself out of the rubble around her. She stood up and refused to tear her eyes from Ignis on the opposite side of the lot from her. "You did it," she repeated Gladio's words, but then she laughed in excitement. Her laughter rose in volume as the entirety of the situation registered with her. "You actually did it!"

Not so weakened from the kick she received from Cerberus that she would remain debilitated, she leaped over the rubble and ran to Ignis, unable to contain her emotions any longer: excitement, happiness, elation, joy, and pride. Ignis expected a congratulatory hug or high-five from Aranea the closer she got but, when she reached him, in one swift motion she grabbed both of his arms and pulled him close, planting a hard kiss on his lips.

Ignis was so taken aback by the action, he couldn't find it within himself to kiss her back. Even if he did, he thought, would she even appreciate the reciprocation? Instead of finding out, he remained stiff and still.

The kiss didn't last long at all and Aranea was quick to pull back. She was astonished at the inappropriateness of her actions and pushed him away, fumbling for an excuse for what she just did. When she couldn't think of anything, she took several steps back and fidgeted with her hands. What on Eos had she just done? She awkwardly stammered out something to end the tension. "You . . . ah . . . you did . . . great job, Specs."

Ignis couldn't wrap his head around what just happened. Was she acting on hidden emotions and feelings, or did she just get caught up in the moment? "Uh . . . yeah. T-thanks . . . I have you to thank f-for all of this—err, yeah," he sputtered, a red-tint washing over his face. He was unusually rattled, his mature character reduced to that of a blabbering idiot. He'd never felt his heart bang so hard in his chest and, once again, confusion and uncertainty clouded his thoughts. In the recesses of his mind, he almost wanted to reach out and grab her to kiss her again, but he didn't. Something inside of him stopped him from doing so.

"Sorry . . . uh, about . . . you know. I just . . . sorry I got carried away."

"Oh yeah, of course," he quickly responded, waving a hand in agreement. "I know. This is . . . ahhh . . . yeah, a lot going on. I understand."

"It meant nothing."

"I wholeheartedly concur."

"Good."

"Agreed."

Aranea kept her stare on Ignis and he couldn't force himself to turn away. His tongue felt too big for his mouth, but he tried to remain outwardly composed.

_What is this woman doing to me?_

Gladio cleared his throat behind them. "Hey, guys? Stiiillll here."

Aranea rolled her eyes and turned around, searching for Gladio in the dark. "What, do you want a cookie? I mean, there's nothing going on. _Sooorrryyyy_ that I'm excited for Specs," she said cynically, though Gladio could almost see through her veiled attempts at denial.

Ignis nodded, almost too eagerly, but he couldn't ignore the tingle on his lips from where Aranea so freely planted hers. He blushed and looked down at the ground to hide the smile that wanted to appear on his face. "Yeah. Gladio . . . it's . . . um . . . it's fine. Just the heat of the moment. Right, Aranea?"

"Right. Yup." Then, she glared at Gladio. "Now, get off my back, alright?"

Gladio chuckled. Their disconcertment was almost endearing.

Without warning, the whir of the power plant sounded and power was restored to Lestallum. Aranea and Gladio squinted at the sudden influx of light while Ignis looked around, understanding that Talcott and Prompto had managed to complete the task he ordered of them.

Gladio looked relieved. "I'm going to find Iris and make sure she's ok. I'm sure she is . . . but, you know. Big brother instincts and all. Oh, and I guess I'll tell Cor that everything is good to go."

As he walked away, careful over the rubble and smoldering debris, Aranea turned back and looked at Ignis, moving slightly closer to him. Somehow, he knew and looked back at her, too.

She was gawky and uncoordinated again. "So . . . our fight earlier . . ."

He held a hand up. "Already forgotten."

"No, stop. Listen," she insisted, pulling his hand down. "I . . . I snapped and I took it out on you. I know you're doing your best, I really do. Please don't think I meant it. I mean, you know . . . at least I hope you don't."

Ignis was amused. "Should I take that as an apology?" he reacted in jest, vaguely aware that she was still holding his hand. Aranea realized it as well and let go, bringing her hand up to nervously play with her hair. He had no idea the power he had to turn her into a shy, tongue-tied little girl and she was getting good at snubbing whatever emotions he brought out in her.

She ignored his good-humored jab at her pathetic apology and nudged his upper arm with a closed fist. "For real, though; you've come a long way. I'm . . . I'm really proud of you. Cerberus never stood a chance against you." Then her tone changed from soft and kind to something a little more assertive. "But don't think this gives you a reason to slack off at our practices. You still have a lot of ground to cover before you ever measure up to me."

He smirked, rubbing his arm where she softly bumped him and savoring the sensation that still lingered on his lips. Between the butterflies he felt from Aranea, the defeat of Cerberus, and finally getting out onto the battlefield and proving himself a worthy fighter capable of holding his own, it had been more than he could ever ask for.

"Aranea, I can hardly wait."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Well, that was way longer than I anticipated, but I really hope you liked it and I can't wait to hear what you all thought of it. I didn't plan on getting that carried away with the fight.
> 
> Also, I've been going back and forth on upping the rating for some future content coming up. I hope that's ok with everyone, but let me know your thoughts on it. :) Oh, and I will be going back and naming my chapters soon as it has been mentioned that the way I have them right now is slightly confusing (with Prologue looking like it's Chapter 1, Chapter 1 looking like it's Chapter 2, etc), so don't be alarmed if you open this and see chapter titles eventually!
> 
> Finally, I seriously have the best readers. You all continue to blow me away with your comments, your suggestions, your messages . . . seriously everything (especially after the week I had, man you all made my day every day)! You have no idea how much I cherish each and every word from all of you. When I started this story, I never expected so many of you to enjoy it as much as you have. I hope I continue to exceed your expectations with every chapter I write. Without you guys, I wouldn't be here. So again, I know I say it a lot, but thank you thank you THANK YOU!


	10. Solace

**Water Under the Bridge  
Solace**

_Some Years Later_

Ignis and Gladio sat together in a dingy bar near where the Lestallum marketplace used to be. Gladio was a few beers in, while Ignis quietly nursed his scotch. It had been a while since either of them had been able to sit down and chat, just the two of them. Since the fight against Cerberus, life had become crazier for everyone. Ignis was now cleared to join in on some missions, so long as he promised to never go alone and to stay close to whoever he was with. Before, this little caveat would have irritated the advisor to no end; now, he was just happy that he was 'allowed' to leave Lestallum at all, once again able to fight and build his strength for Noctis' eventual return.

As for Noctis, there was still no sign of him or his homecoming. Every day, everyone woke up and hoped for sort of indication that he was back, but there was nothing. It didn't matter how many years passed by—Ignis still took the prince's disappearance hard. Some days the anguish was easier to handle, while other days he had to trudge through the motions until he felt the grief subside. On the days he felt particularly sad, he'd throw everything he had into his practices with Aranea. Over time, she began to pick up on these feelings of his and allowed him the chance to let out all the pent-up emotions until he couldn't expend another ounce of energy. At first, she tried to tell Ignis that maybe Noctis wasn't coming back and it was best to move on, but she'd be shot down each time and eventually, she learned to keep her mouth shut. Her tough love wasn't always helpful.

Ignis knew, deep in his heart, that his King was returning. It wasn't a matter of if, but more so a matter of when.

As life moved on around them, it got harder and harder for Ignis to meet up with Aranea as both of their schedules continued to clash, though they still tried to get in as much sparring practice as possible with each other as they could. Today, while Aranea prepared to leave for Hammerhead with Talcott, Gladio and Ignis were trying to catch up on the weeks and months past, attempting to squeeze in everything they could before Ignis was due to leave with Prompto to Vesperpool for the next few days.

"How has training with Aranea been, lately?" Gladio asked, taking another long swig of his cold beer.

"Fine. Can't complain. Still the same," Ignis curtly replied while he shrugged, clinking his fingernail against his glass nervously. His mouth was tight and he kept his face forward as if he were studying something behind the bar counter.

Gladio let out a snicker, seeing how uncomfortable Ignis appeared when their conversation switched to the subject of Aranea. "Don't tell me you two are _still_ dancing around the fact that you have feelings for each other."

"That would be the case if either of us had feelings for each other in the first place," Ignis countered defensively, knocking back the rest of his drink and pushing the empty glass to the edge of the counter for a refill.

"Oh, please, Iggy; it's so obvious to everyone that you two are practically in love," Gladio kicked Ignis' stool flippantly. "Well, obvious to everyone except the two of you."

"And why do you think that?"

"For starters, you changed your hair for her."

"I didn't change my hair for anyone but myself. It was becoming cumbersome to continually style it the way I used to."

"Uh-huh. What about the time Prompto caught you two in the kitchenette feeding each other?"

"Dammit Prompto . . ." Ignis muttered under his breath as another drink was placed in front of him. He felt around the counter before he found it and took it in his hand, side-eyeing Gladio. "I was elbow-deep in dish water."

The smirk on Gladio's face grew with every lame justification. "Ok, fair enough; but did you conveniently forget when she ran and kissed you after that fight against Cerberus?"

"I beg your pardon?" the advisor glared, one eyebrow raised and his glass poised by his lips as he prepared to take another sip.

"Aranea _kissed_ _you_. She could have shaken your hand or high-fived you or a million other things to express her pride in you, but she _kissed_ you."

"Gladio, please. We've already established that the kiss occurred in the heat of the moment and meant nothing. It still means nothing, so if you will, please drop it."

Gladio pointed the neck of his beer bottle at his friend, leaning forward slightly. "Oh, that's right, you're blind," he acknowledged as if this was brand new information. "Well, let me tell you what you're failing to literally see: whenever you come into a room, she looks at you like you're the only one around. Whenever you come up in a conversation, she'll go from bored to interested in zero seconds flat. Your name leaves her lips more than anyone else's names in all of Lucis . . . hell, even Eos. I've never seen a woman so enamored over someone as I've seen with Aranea and you.

And let's not leave out the fact that _you_ —yeah, you—turn into this undone mess of a person who can barely string together five words around her. I mean, for someone who apparently does not have _any_ sort of feelings or emotions for Aranea, you sure do have the tendency to fall apart in her presence."

Ignis snorted into his drink and shook his head, smirking. "You've gone mad, my friend. She's made it perfectly clear where we stand."

"But that's not where you want to stand, is it?"

"I never said that."

"You didn't have to," Gladio said, but Ignis once again shrugged off his allegations and Gladio took another drink of his beer. "Cut the shit, Iggy. You're not fooling anyone. We all know you have the hots for her and that she has it bad for you."

"Who and bad for whom?"

Both men choked on their drinks as Aranea pulled up a seat beside them at the bar, propping her elbow up on the bar counter and raising an eyebrow their way. She sat next to Ignis on his right, but leaned forward just enough to give a knowing glower past him, aimed directly at Gladio.

"Oh, no one. Just some random girl. You don't know her," Gladio recovered, still coughing while trying to get the bartender's attention for another beer. The bartender acknowledged him with a wink and he turned back to a red-faced Ignis and a skeptical Aranea.

"I'm pretty sure I know everyone in this stupid town," she deadpanned.

"Maybe you don't?"

"Mmhmm," she hummed. "I'll act like you're a good liar and let you off this time, but next time work on your delivery and maybe I'll buy what it is you're telling me." She turned her attention to Ignis. "Anyway, the real reason I'm here: Cor has an assignment for us. Some daemons are getting out of hand near the Vesperpool area and we need to go take care of it."

Ignis frowned, his brows furrowed. "Odd; Prompto and I were placed on that mission and you were on the Hammerhead errand for the next few days."

Aranea reclined back on her stool and stretched before making light of the sudden alteration in arrangements. "Yeah, well, plans changed and Cor switched me with Sunshine Boy. Your buddy didn't seem to mind all that much since it meant going to see Little Miss Mechanic. He practically busted out of his skin in excitement. Besides, it works out for me; bringing Cid back and getting a tune-up on our vehicles is such a dull assignment. If I'm going somewhere, there better be some daemons to kill."

Due to Cid's age, everyone thought it was within his best interest to move from Hammerhead to Lestallum, where access to healthcare was slightly better (though that wasn't saying much since Hammerhead just contained a garage and an abandoned diner, while Lestallum housed only a handful of trained medics). Cid fought the decision tooth and nail, but after Cindy, his granddaughter and light of his life, nearly begged him to resettle his life in the larger city, he relented and packed up his things. Now, apparently, it was Prompto and Talcott's duty to move him from the garage-turned-daemon slayer-station to the city.

Gladio snickered at the abrupt plan adjustment. "Oh, yeah, sure; Cor switched you. You had _no_ say in this at all, despite being second-in-command?" he baited as he flashed a deliberate sneer in her direction, but his expression slackened when the bartender brought him a new, cold beer. He mouthed a 'thank you' with a look of adoration in his eyes.

"What are you implying?" Aranea warned while Ignis, wide-eyed and hunched in his seat, tried to gulp down his drink in an effort to avoid the conversation at hand. Gladio chuckled again and turned away, done trying to get any worthwhile and juicy information out of the woman.

Aranea took Ignis' hand and pulled him from his stool as she jumped down from hers. "Come on. The _all-powerful Marshal_ asked that we head out soon and I already have the truck packed up and ready to go. I'm thinking we'll only be gone for a couple of days."

As Aranea began to tug Ignis from the bar to the door, Gladio called out: "You kids have fun!" She threw her middle finger over her shoulder as Ignis looked helplessly behind him.

As Aranea continued to drag him out of the bar, muttering incoherent nonsense about how Gladio was stupid and didn't know what he was talking about, a conversation caused Ignis to jerk away without warning, surprising Aranea in the process. Though the bar was empty, there was one other pair of hunters sitting at a nearby table. They were talking heatedly and Ignis immediately picked up on their exchange. It didn't take long for a chill to settle in his stomach and a slight uptick in his heartbeat to be felt in his chest.

"—purple hair and super nice robes? I doubt it."

"Oh my gosh, yes! I know what I saw! It was the Chancellor!"

"Dude, are you sure? I thought the Chancellor died years ago. No one's seen or heard from him since the fall of Niflheim. It was probably someone else."

"No, dude. I swear, it was him!"

"Why on Eos would the Chancellor, Ardyn Izunia, be roaming about when he could easily just come in here? It doesn't make any sense. You're crazy."

Having also heard the discussion taking place, Aranea tried to reach for Ignis' hand again and he wrenched away once more. "Aranea, please," he hissed, one ear cocked toward the pair of hunters as he attempted to eavesdrop.

She rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip. "For fuck's sake, Ignis; they're drunk! They don't know what the hell they're talking about, ok? They probably saw some stupid punk kid playing dress up or something."

Ignis swiped her hand away again, his expression a mix of horror and fascination. "Why would _he_ be lurking around here?" he mulled, the tone of his voice conveying his mental distance.

Although he felt numb and disoriented, he still felt Aranea's hand grab his upper arm insistently, yanking him back from his trance. She placed her other hand on his other arm so that now she was holding him firm. "Specs, look at me." When he didn't immediately look at her, she brought a crooked finger under his chin and pulled his clouded eye back to her. Though it took a moment, his stare focused in her direction and she placed her hand back on his arm, but his eye continued to flicker wildly back and forth as if he was waiting for Ardyn to waltz through the bar doors.

Aranea looked over Ignis' shoulder and saw that Gladio was, thankfully, too caught up flirting with the bartender to realize what was going on. She spoke to Ignis calmly and quietly. "Please, listen to me—Ardyn is _not_ here. If he was, he'd have been here by now, ok? What you're hearing is the idiotic diatribe between two guys who are bored and trying to pass the time with stupid theories. Alright?"

"You don't understand," he whispered, the muscles along his jawline tensed as he clenched his teeth. "After Noct was overcome by the Crystal, Gladio and Prompto tried to take the Chancellor down and it didn't work. Do you get it? _He. Can't. Die_. So, you see, we know he's out there—waiting—and it's only a matter of time before he resurfaces somewhere. But what I can't understand is why he would be here at all . . ."

"You've gotta calm down. You're being paranoid, Specs. Nothing's going to happen, ok? I promise I won't let it. Just . . . " she sighed and blew a piece of hair from her face, letting go of one of his arms and letting her other hand fall to his gloved hand. He looked stressed, but Aranea couldn't think of anything else to ease his mind. "Come on. Let's get going. The truck is probably ready to go and Cor is being a dick about making sure we leave on time lately."

Ignis was diffident at first but then he allowed Aranea to take his hand and gently lead him from the bar, unaware that she constantly looked behind her to make sure he was ok. She was bothered that he was crippled by fear at the mere mention of the Chancellor and she knew she needed to get him away from the bar—and that discussion—as fast as possible.

The all-too-familiar mugginess encompassed the pair and immediately brought perspiration to their brows as they walked outside. As they ambled down the street to the vehicle lot, Ignis' hand twitched within Aranea's hold and he started to pull away, but she held on a little tighter. "You are mindful that I haven't used a cane in quite some time, especially within the city limits, correct? I'm perfectly capable of getting around without your guidance," he alerted her.

"Well, we have to make sure you get to the vehicle compound in one piece and I can't have you lagging behind. So just shut up and let me lead you."

Gladio's words from earlier echoed in his mind. All the little things she did that everyone else picked up on—everyone else, that is, except Ignis. He hid his smile in case Aranea unexpectedly decided to look back at him. It dawned on him what Gladio meant and right now was a perfect example of how Aranea acted around Ignis.

Ignis and Aranea both knew that Aranea was using this as an excuse to hold his hand as Ignis had recently gone to the vehicle lot on his own without any help.  
  


* * *

  
After a particularly long and drawn out trip and an entire day of bringing down the iron giants and various elemental bombs that inundated the Vesperpool area, Ignis and Aranea picked up and bottled some blizzard, fire, and lightning spells and eventually moved to find the nearest campsite where they would be staying. Due to the magic of the Oracle, the campsites scattered around Lucis were a safe haven for any and all daemon hunters that stumbled across them. No daemon or monster could penetrate the magical forcefield that surrounded each one.

The two were beyond exhausted, but that didn't stop them from arguing over the smallest things. "For the last time, I was not showing you up." Ignis tried to reason with Aranea for the hundredth time as they hurriedly unpacked the truck.

Aranea was annoyed with Ignis after he'd rushed to her aid multiple times during their fights with the daemons, even after she yelled that she could take care of herself. That didn't sit well with Ignis. Despite Aranea consistently outmatching him in combat time and time again, the chivalrous side of him still wanted to make sure she was safe and out of harm's way. To Aranea, it read like she couldn't handle her own battles and it erupted into a long, drawn-out bicker-fest between the two.

Aranea kicked the truck door closed behind her and shoved passed Ignis with authority. "What part of 'back the fuck off' is not in your vocabulary? I told you I had it and you _still_ tried to undermine my command."

"Well, _Commodore,"_ he challenged derisively, "Iwas under the impression we were partners in battle, working together to vanquish the daemons in the area. However, if you would like to remain but a military officer and I your submissive subordinate, by all means, be my guest."

"I literally want to punch you in the face right now."

"And I literally wish you would."

They dropped the supplies on the ground and Aranea got to work pulling the tent out of its carrier sleeve, laying it out and proceeding to set it up. Ignis practically had his head bitten off when he offered to help. "What, you don't think a girl like me can pitch a tent either?" she snarled.

"My word, you are quite insufferable today."

When he heard her mimic his voice, complete with a fake accent, in a high and nasally pitch, he held his hands up in mock surrender and backed off, retreating to the other side of the campsite where he now sat patiently, legs extended in front of him, waiting for her to finish setting up the tent.

Upon completion, she threw the hammer down on the stone and dusted her hands off while tossing her hair haughtily over her shoulder. "Ha! And you said I couldn't do it."

Ignis brought one leg up close to his chest and rested his arm across his knee, pushing his tinted glasses up. "It was never my intention to imply that you couldn't do it. I simply wanted to be of some assis—"

"Well, back off, alright? I got this. And had I'd known that you would be all up my ass this mission, I wouldn't have asked Prompto to switch with me so I could be with you."

Ignis lurched forward at her words, pointing an accusatory finger as Aranea's eyes widened upon her unintended confession. " _You_ switched the missions? To be with me?" he asked.

"Err . . . no. You misunderstood me! I meant that _Cor_ asked me to switch with Prompto so you could be more protected . . . or something. Yeah, I didn't _want_ to switch, but he made me. For the love of the Six, you need to get your hearing checked. Can't have you both blind and deaf," she stammered, moseying around the camp and hiding her face as she came up with excuse after excuse.

"For your information, though my sight has been rendered useless, my other senses are greatly enhanced. I don't have any reason to get my hearing checked—but, please, keep insisting that I must just so you can save face," he defended coolly, waiting for her to make up another excuse and smirking when none came. Instead, she shuffled around and mumbled a few choice curse words his way.

Once the tension between the pair eventually died down and everything was set up, Aranea grudgingly asked if Ignis was hungry, to which he replied that he was famished. Unfortunately, they didn't have the ingredients to make anything remarkably fulfilling and Ignis was still holding to his promise that he'd cook Aranea a spectacular, home-cooked meal when he was satisfied with his skills.

So, they settled for some Cup Noodles and he entertained her with stories from his road trip across Lucis with Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto all those years ago. He was surprised she was interested at all in his anecdotes and he found that the more engrossed he became with the retelling of the trip, the more she laughed and pleaded for him to continue. Ignis was practically high on her laughter and he couldn't get enough of it, so he picked the funnier stories from his memory just to elicit one more giggle from her.

When he finished telling Aranea about the time their car ran out of gas and how they barely coasted into a nearby gas station, she wiped the tears from her eyes and looked around. "Hey, do you remember that time when I was told to help you and your buddies find that Mythril for that boat of yours?"

Ignis unscrewed the cap from his water bottle and took a sip, nodding slyly. "Right over there by the Steyliff Grove dungeon," he motioned to the horizon.

Aranea smirked. "So, you haven't forgotten. I was waiting for you to retell _that_ story."

"I didn't want to bring up a tale that you already knew," he smiled in return. "But, I'll confess, that memory is one of my favored ones of the trip."

"And why is that?" she prodded, poking him in the arm incessantly, but Ignis continued to smile and shake his head as he resisted her imploration to answer her question. "Oh, come on, you can't say that and play coy when I ask why."

She quickly grew tired of begging him to answer her and groaned in frustration. "Fine, fine. You win. I'll leave you alone," she conceded defeat, rising to her feet and dusting her hands off on her pants.

"Where are you going?" Ignis questioned as she went to her bag by the tent, kneeling down and rummaged through it.

"Noneya."

"Ah, classic."

Aranea laughed at her juvenile response to his question and shook her bag a couple of times. She muttered that she needed to find time to clean it out as she pulled a book from it, standing and walking back to the fireside. "I like to read before bed. I figure I can get in a few chapters before the fire completely burns out for the night," she told him as she sat back down, this time a little closer to the flames for better lighting. She didn't even realize that Ignis had gone unusually quiet.

"What book are you reading?" he softly asked.

Aranea, still oblivious to his change in behavior, flipped back and forth between the front and back cover of the book. "It's just some biography book I found at a base a few months ago. I don't even know who the person is, but it's interesting so far." She looked up from the book and saw him become noticeably austere, the fire creating deep shadows across his face. She leaned her head to one side and her tone changed to one of concern. "Hey, what's wrong? Why do you look so mopey?"

He didn't say anything at first, running his hand along the ground and picking up a small pebble next to him, flicking it into the flames. Then, he smiled sadly. "As a child, up into my teenage years, I could get lost for hours in the library at the Citadel after hours. Text after text after text . . . I loved it. Sometimes, I'd lose all track of time while reading and I'd have to rush to close up because I needed to get his Majesty to school on time."

Aranea placed the book in her lap, her finger still holding a spot in between the pages. "What genre was your favorite?"

"Oh, I didn't particularly favor one over the other. Some days I enjoyed fiction; some days I preferred reading my cookbooks. It varied, honestly. Sometimes, if nostalgia washed over me, I'd re-read the old children's books that I'd read to Noct as a child," he laughed, as did Aranea.

She looked down at the book in her lap. Aranea wasn't a bookworm by any means, but she did love the feeling of getting lost in a good story. It was hard to imagine how it felt to have that ability to read anything and everything ripped away in an instant. Regarding Ignis with a look of sympathy, she flipped her book open again and scanned the pages quickly before moving closer to him. "So, I'm not sure if you'll even like this book, but I could read it to you if you'd like. If you hate it, you can turn around and walk right into that tent and it won't hurt my feelings. Promise."

"I couldn't ask that of you, Aranea."

"Well, it's a good thing you're not asking, then."

Ignis tilted his head and his sad smile started to turn upwards into something a little happier. "You would be so kind to do that?"

She shrugged, scooting closer to him than necessary so that her leg brushed against his. Both noticed, but neither seemed to mind. The spine of the book cracked as she opened it and she softly began to read aloud the biography of someone neither one had ever heard of.  
  


* * *

  
The fire had all but burned out, reduced to nothing but embers and glowing coal.

Aranea had gotten a chapter or two into the biography before looking over to see Ignis nodding off, his chin starting to rest on his chest and a yawn escaping his mouth every few minutes. She nudged him and prompted him to follow her to the tent so they could get some sleep before heading out the next day. At first, he tried to wave her off and tell her to keep reading, but after a while even he couldn't deny that he was blatantly dozing off sitting up.

Reluctantly, Ignis stood up and trailed behind Aranea as they got ready for bed. They dressed in clothing more appropriate for sleeping, but also decent enough so if they needed to leave at a moment's notice, they could without having to change again. They both set up their blankets and pillows on opposite sides of the tent. Ignis tried to convince Aranea that he'd be ok with sleeping outside of the tent, both for her protection and to allow her some privacy—though the main reason (that he kept to himself) was that he was afraid that he'd wake her up with another one of his nightmares. Aranea admonished his claims and dragged him and his blankets back into the tent, zipping up the door flap behind her.

"There. Now go to sleep," she commanded as he unwillingly burrowed himself under his blankets, his back to her. Once she was satisfied that he was settled in his provisional bed, she relaxed and snuggled into her own blankets.

After the long couple of days they'd had, sleep came easily to both of them. More often than not, Aranea was a relatively heavy sleeper, but that wasn't the case tonight.

Tonight, Aranea was roused from sleep by Ignis' whimpering and sharp movements. She blinked a couple of times, trying to adjust to the darkness, and sat up on her elbows, looking over at the man beside her who was writhing distressingly. Aware that he was mumbling something in his sleep, she inched forward and laid a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, Specs . . . Hey. Wake up. Come on, you're having a bad dream."

He tossed and turned, whispering the words 'help' and 'stop' multiple times. His face reflected fear and his hands clenched his blanket tightly to his chest. It scared her to see him this distraught, obviously terrified of whatever it was he was up against in his dream.

Aranea shook him harder, calling his name a few more times. It took another good shake and a louder calling of his name before he finally calmed down, slipping back into a semi-peaceful slumber. She continued to watch him as his breathing evened and his face relaxed. How could someone like Ignis, always the picture-perfect persona of poise and stoicism, be so tormented in his dreams? She found herself silently cursing Ardyn and whatever he had done to haunt Ignis all these years later. She always hated that bastard.

She brushed Ignis' hair away from his face, somewhat matted by the sheen of sweat from his forehead, and pulled her pillow and blankets to his side, feeling the need to calm him. As she resettled into her makeshift bed, she reached out and started to rub his arm, comforting him though he was none the wiser at this point. Being this close, she studied him while he slept, bringing her hand from his arm to his face and tracing her fingers over his scars. It hurt her to know he went through so much and, yet, he continued to put on a brave face day after day, acting like everything was ok when it clearly was not. He shifted a little under her touch but never woke up.

Her fingers trailed from the scar on his right eyebrow, down to the one across the bridge of his nose, and then to the one that marred the entirety of his left eye. When she moved her fingers from his eye to the scar on his lip, her breathing hitched and she pulled away with a start. What on Eos was she doing? This was uncalled for—and yet, it felt so right.

Aranea had long ago accepted the fact that she was attracted to Ignis; she'd be stupid to deny it to herself anymore. She desperately wanted to let herself fall for him, but the thought of opening up to anyone terrified her. She couldn't, especially after what happened before with her last relationship. It hurt too much.

It pained her to keep these emotions bottled up, but she had to. It was pointless to mention anything while darkness loomed over Eos and it was _especially_ pointless to mention anything when she had no desire to start a relationship. Maybe in another lifetime, but not this one. She shut that door to her heart a long time ago.

Try as she might, she couldn't deny what she felt for Ignis and it grew stronger with every passing day. Over the years, he'd become her closest confidant and best friend. Despite every one of her moody outbursts, their frantic schedules, and the utter grittiness of life, he stood by her side with unwavering friendship and loyalty. Every time he made some stupid pun, or the way he took his sunglasses off to rub his eyes from whatever stress he was under, or when he turned to her to smile, it made her feelings for him that much stronger. He had no idea—or at least she didn't think he did—just how much he meant to her. All these years and yet they continued to keep up the façade of friendship. Oh well. C'est la vie.

Aranea noticed he was starting to grow restless in his sleep again, rolling onto his back from his side, and she drew herself close, placing her arm around him and laying her head on his chest, waiting for him to calm down once more. Under her ear, she could hear his heart slow and it made her feel a little better knowing that he was tranquil again. She started to move away to give him space again, but she felt his arm unexpectedly pull her in, hugging her close. Confused, she looked up to see if he was awake, but his eye was still closed and his head was somewhat lolled to the side. No, he was still fast asleep. She wondered if he even realized what he was doing. Impossible, she thought. He'd never allow himself to be caught dead in such a compromising situation.

In his arms, feeling more safe and secure than she ever had since the darkness took over the world, Aranea let herself ease into Ignis and his hold around her. She finally felt her eyelids grow heavy as she fell back asleep, a serene smile adorning her lips.  
  


* * *

  
It wasn't the alarm he set—just in case—that disturbed him. It also wasn't another bad dream featuring Ardyn or daemon Aranea that woke him.

No, Ignis woke up to the sound of Aranea packing their things, slamming objects a little too loud for his liking. He wondered how late he'd slept in if she was up and active long before him. The fact that _anyone_ was up before him threw him for a loop. Casting his blankets aside, he blearily stumbled to his feet, sans tinted glasses, and opened the tent door flap. He heard Aranea stop what she was doing and he knew she was looking at him. "Oh, sorry. Did I wake you?" she asked dryly, but it was obvious the answer was yes.

"I . . . um . . . how late did I sleep in?" he stuttered, embarrassed.

She shook her head and knelt beside one of their camping chairs—chairs that neither had bothered to use the night before—unclipping one of the chair legs so it could collapse onto itself. "You didn't. I got a phone call this morning from Cor and I've been up ever since."

"Oh," he said, amazed that he slept through her ringing phone, but reasoned that it was due to how exhausted he'd been lately. He ran a hand through his hair and stepped out of the tent to stretch his arms high above him. "What can I help—"

"I'm leaving," she interrupted, sounding a lot angrier and sadder than just seconds before.

"I know. We're leav—"

"Not _us_ , Ignis," Aranea snapped, cutting him off again. He didn't say anything else, listening as she struggled with collapsing the chair. The clip wasn't cooperating and she stood up and irately kicked the chair away from her. She crumbled to the ground and placed her head in her hands, sighing deeply.

"What . . . what do you mean, 'you're leaving'?"

It took a minute for her to find her voice to respond. "It means I'm leaving, Ignis. I'm getting sent away for several months. Maybe longer, maybe not. I don't know."

Ignis walked around the smoldering campfire and towered over Aranea before cautiously taking a seat next to her. He wondered if she'd been crying, judging by the way her voice sounded like her nose was stuffed up, but he knew she wasn't the type to cry; or maybe she was and he just didn't know it. Honestly, Aranea was constantly saying and doing things that surprised Ignis all the time, so he didn't put it past her to cry in secret. He pressed his lips together and turned toward her. "Where are you going?"

Her breath was shaky. So, she had been crying. "Apparently, we received a transmission from Altissia right after you and I left. There are some survivors spread out across the continent of Accordo. I'm taking Biggs and Wedge with me and a few other new hunters and we're leaving in a few days." She placed her head back into her hands and talked through her fingers, her voice muffled. "I know I'm the go-to person for these types of assignments. I get that. I mean, who else has the militaristic background that I do? But . . . I'm so tired of this. Of leaving. Always on the go and never able to stick around. I just . . . I want to stay. I don't want to leave anymore."

She sounded so small and fragile. In that moment, Ignis didn't care what she thought or what his conscious was telling him. He reached for her hand and took it in his. Although he couldn't tell, her eyes were now on him as he squeezed her hand reassuringly. They both stayed that way, her hand in his. Neither one needed to say anything—both were despondent that, once again, they were torn apart by circumstances beyond their control without an end in sight.

Aranea broke the silence. "I . . . I wish I could write you. From what Cor was saying, cell service isn't what it used to be, especially in Accordo. Even if it was, I doubt my phone will stay charged for more than a day or so. I just . . . I wish you could see so that I could write you letters. Like the old days, you know?"

"Why can't you?" he asked, squeezing her hand just a little tighter. "I may not be able to read them, but at least I'll know that you're safe every time I get an envelope from you."

"Ok, but what if I skip all the 'I'm safe' bullshit and just write stupid nonsense about how much I hate you and your stupid combed back hair and that ugly leopard dress shirt you wear?"

"You mean the leopard dress shirt that was hand-tailored and cost quite a bit of gil? My favorite shirt? You'd better retract that statement, right now," he feigned offense by bringing his other hand to his chest, appearing hurt.

Aranea giggled. "Yeah, fine. Whatever. Plus, I guess you look ok in it," she admitted.

Ignis gave her a reassuring smile. "In all seriousness, I would very much appreciate any correspondence from you, just to know that you're alive and well. Draw me a picture, send me a poem, write to your heart's content, I honestly don't care. But, just know that I'll cherish every single one and I'll keep them until you return, no matter what they say. I'll wait for you to come home and then you can read the letters to me upon your return."

Aranea held back a sniffle, not daring to let one ounce of this moment make her cry, again. She looked up at the sky, hoping gravity or the Astrals or something would push the tears right back into her eyeballs. She _hated_ emotions, but this was all too much, even for her. "Yeah. Sure, Specs. That sounds . . . that sounds good. I'll do that."

Ignis stood up, pulling Aranea up as well. When both were standing, he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tight, hoping it would bring some comfort to her right now. At first, she stood, dumbfounded, unsure of how to react to his embrace, but slowly she found herself returning the gesture.

He lightly rested his chin on the top of her head, smelling the same faint scent of jasmine and orchid that caused him to go weak the night they cooked together at his hotel room. Ignis dreaded knowing how alone he'd feel upon her departure. Sure, he had felt loneliness before, but it was nothing compared to this. His heart felt heavy and cold, but he kept his composure for Aranea's sake. "I'll miss you," he whispered so softly that Aranea almost failed to hear it.

Unsure if she heard him right, Aranea pulled her head away and looked up at him, yet he never looked back at her. She took a deep breath and buried her face back into his chest and his arms tightened around her just a bit more. "Yeah, I know," she replied.

They remained in each other's arms, neither one wanting to let go of each other or this moment, knowing as soon as they did, it meant another step toward letting go for the foreseeable future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A time skip, some fluff and some angst and they still don't want to admit their feelings to each other :) Oh well! Maybe one day ;)
> 
> I will be upping the rating next chapter. The scene I have in mind may not exactly warrant a hard M rating, but I'd rather be safe than sorry. Down the road though, the rating will for sure be necessary. I apologize to those who may not agree with this, but I hope you'll forgive me!
> 
> Finally, again, I have the best readers. I know I respond to each and every one of you (and to those who write as guest and have their PMs disabled, I try and send strong telepathic vibes your way! lol) but I truly love and cherish each and every one of your reviews. I love you guys so much! Thank you!


	11. Passes

**Water Under the Bridge  
Passes**

"Stay safe walking back!"

"Thanks, man; you stay safe, also. I'll catch you later."

Prompto climbed down the ladder from his post atop the guard gate at the front of Lestallum, starving and ready to go home. Yet another riveting shift of guard duty had come and gone and Prompto was officially done for the evening, and not a moment too soon.

He understood why it was necessary for Lestallum to have people posted at various points around the city's gated limits but, for the love of Shiva, it was the most mind-numbing and draining job anyone could be assigned these days. The city's power plant did a great job at keeping daemons at bay, but guard duty was the extra level of protection Lestallum needed.

And, for some dumb reason, Cor always put Prompto on guard duty and Prompto hated every waking minute of it.

Prompto was told that it was because he was the best sharpshooter in the city and he could take down any daemon with one shot within a mile radius. Of course, Prompto smiled and nodded, accepting his duty as gatekeeper, but inside he screamed and raged. Why couldn't he get the good daemon hunting jobs that always went to Gladio? It wasn't fair.

Oh well.

As Prompto waved goodbye to the person who took over his shift of guarding the gate (some guy he saw in passing, but never really got to know), a loud squawking caught his attention. He whirled around, excited to see a yapping Chocobo at the gate. It, too, seemed excited to see Prompto standing there. With every hop and flailing of its wings, yellow feathers flew this way and that. Saddled on its back was a brown messenger-type bag and it looked pathetically empty.

"Aw, hey there buddy!" the blonde greeted happily. Nowadays in Eos, some Chocobo's were trained to carry mail over long distances. A few could even swim the entire length of the ocean from Accordo to Lucis, all the way to Niflheim, and back. It wasn't exactly conventional and the service could be slow sometimes, but it worked.

Prompto urged the new guard to open the gate for the Chocobo. As soon as there was enough clearance, he squeezed through and hugged the animal around its neck.

He'd never get tired of seeing these magnificent creatures.

"Let's see what you have for us today, hm?" he said aloud, reaching his hand into the bag and feeling around for any new mail, but came up empty. He frowned and looked up at the Chocobo. "Are you lost? Or maybe you're at the wrong post? There's nothing in your bag."

"KWEH!" the Chocobo screeched right in Prompto's ear, causing him to jump back in surprise. The bird bumped him with its weight and flapped its wings excitedly.

"Dude, what the hell? I just told you, your bag is empty!"

Once again, the Chocobo rammed against him and Prompto rolled his eyes.

Ok, maybe he was getting a _little_ tired of _this_ magnificent creature.

He sighed and reached back into the bag, now checking every single pocket both inside and out. Just as he was ready to shoo the bird away for wasting his time, his fingers reached into one last pocket and he felt a small, thin envelope pressed against the side. Between his pointer and middle finger, he pulled the envelope out and looked at it sheepishly. "Ahhh, sorry about that. Guess I missed that last little pocket."

The Chocobo pecked him three times on top of his head. "Hey!" he complained, face twisted into mild annoyance and pain. He lightly bopped it on its beak before grabbing its reins, leading the bird through the gates and into the city. The Chocobo was probably hungry, thirsty, and tired, so Prompto took it to a small building set up to allow Chocobo to rest and eat in peace until they were sent away with more letters and packages.

As soon as he handed the bird off to the person who looked after the animals—someone else that Prompto didn't really know—he looked at the envelope for the first time since grabbing it from the bag, seeing who it belonged to and where he needed to take it.

To his surprise, in gorgeous cursive writing, it was addressed to Ignis at the Levelle in Lestallum.

Prompto scrunched his face, thoughts unclear from hunger and lack of sleep, before coming to the quick realization that a certain _someone_ must have sent this letter to Ignis. He broke into a jog through the streets, down some shortcuts through narrow alleyways, and made his way back to the Levelle. He bounded up the stairs two at a time and burst through the door to find Ignis standing by the window, staring outside without glasses to shield his face, as if he could see any of what was going on outside.  
  


* * *

 

The silence gave him time to think, although Ignis wished he could escape his own thoughts.

He thought about Noctis and his friends. He sometimes thought about his eyesight, but that wasn't something he dwelled on much anymore ( _What's done is done_ , he'd reason). He thought about Eos and daemons and when the next assignment for him would come rolling in. If he thought long enough, he'd conjure images of Ardyn and Ignis would wonder what he was up to and who he really was.

Lately, though, he let his mind wander back to Aranea, her safety, and her wellbeing. He hadn't received anything from her in at least a few weeks, but she was undoubtedly busy. That didn't stop him from worrying and, if he was honest, from missing her.

As if the Gods heard his contemplations, the door to the room flew open. This almost startled Ignis, but he had been forewarned of the person's arrival with the thumping of footsteps up the Levelle stairs. For Ignis, it was easy to discern, between Prompto and Gladio, who was who when they came into the room. One always entered and moved about with purpose, strength, and heavy paces; the other never failed to barrel in with the energy of a million suns.

Upon his entrance, Ignis turned his ear to the door. "Prompto," he greeted solemnly. At first, Prompto didn't say or do anything and Ignis only then remembered he had removed his tinted glasses earlier in the day.

Often, Prompto was relatively normal around Ignis, but he also had a kind and sensitive soul. He knew it was hard for his friend to come to terms with his disfigurement, despite the years between Altissia and now. Ignis could feel it in the way that Prompto hesitated around him when he went without his glasses. He could hear it in the way that Prompto's voice hitched when he'd throw a marred glare the blonde's way. When Ignis picked up on Prompto's uneasiness, it made him feel uncomfortable and anxious, much like he was feeling now.

The quiet only lasted for a few more seconds, give or take, before Prompto crossed the threshold into the room and over to the window. "Something came for you," he announced breathlessly, taking Ignis' arm with one hand and placing the letter into his hand with the other. Prompto never once took his eyes from Ignis' face as he watched his intense expression slowly transform into one of soft contentment. Their eyes met and Prompto nodded happily, knowing just what that letter meant to the advisor.

Ignis' shoulders, before tensed and rigid, slackened. "Thank you, Prompto," he exhaled quietly, running his fingers over the envelope and the indentations that the writing left across the paper.

Prompto turned to flop on Gladio's claimed bed, exhausted from his guard shift. He put both hands under his head and closed his eyes, but Ignis remained standing by the window with the envelope in his possession. When he didn't hear anything, Prompto opened one eye and smirked. "Love letter from your secret admirer?"

That comment snapped Ignis out of his thoughts and he made a noise that was a cross between an annoyed hum and a frustrated groan. He walked to his bed and opened the drawer in the nightstand. Prompto sat up on his elbows and noticed, for the first time, a pile of similar envelopes—some opened, some still sealed—neatly stacked to the side next to another pair of visor sunglasses and the old recipe notebook. Ignis sat on the edge of the bed, springs creaking under his weight, and placed this envelope on top of the others, shutting the drawer with sad resignation.

Prompto kicked his legs over and moved into a sitting position opposite of Ignis. "How long has she been writing you?" he asked, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees and his hands interlocked together.

Ignis shrugged. "She handed me her first letter on her departure. After that, I estimate a letter fortnightly, give or take." He looked like he was calculating something in his head. "Eight months? Nine? There are roughly 15 or 16 letters in that drawer, so I assume that's correct."

Prompto's eyebrows shot up in disbelief. Ignis has made no mention of communication going back and forth between the pair, but that wasn't what shocked him; Prompto was amazed at the fact that Ignis was able to keep something like this so low-key. Typical of the advisor. Never one to reveal the inner workings of his mind—or heart.

"Do you know what they say?" Prompto questioned, letting curiosity get the better of him as he rudely reached forward, attempting to grab one of the letters. Remarkably, Ignis obstructed him with a stern, gloved hand clenched around his wrist. Prompto cringed as he looked up and saw the almost imperceptible annoyance in Ignis' face and his wrist was released and pushed away in one fluid motion.

"Does it appear that I would know what they say?" Ignis retorted, shaking his head and wordlessly getting to his feet again. He paced back to the window, ignoring Prompto's obvious stare as he did so. The room remained still for what felt like forever and Prompto, once more, felt the need to interrupt the silence.

"You know, it's ok to admit you like her," he assured, his back to Ignis but he spoke over his shoulder. "We all know she likes you, too."

Ignis flicked a hand up, waving away Prompto's encouragements. Outside, dark clouds rolled through the sky. "I fear revealing my true sentiments would be far easier said than done."

"Dude, I promise you it's not that hard to tell someone you like them. What's the worst she can say? No?"

Ignis continued to gaze blankly out the window. "As someone who seems to be well-versed in the art of romance, I assume that you, too, have told the object of your affections of your feelings?"

Prompto reddened at this, nervously picking at an errant string sticking out of the hem of his right glove. "Well, not . . . no, not exactly. But, come on Iggy, that's different."

"It's always different when it's your own situation, is it not?"

When Ignis refused to look back at Prompto, the blonde bit his lip and gave up on pulling at the stupid string on his glove anymore. "I guess you have a point," Prompto bitterly accepted this nugget of knowledge as he stood up and walked around the bed. He took a position beside Ignis in front of the large—yet incredibly murky and dirty—window.

His eyes cut from the pane to Ignis, back to the outside world of Lestallum, and then to Ignis once more. He took a deep breath. "But, just because I haven't found the courage to man up and admit my . . . er . . . _like_ for a certain someone, that doesn't mean that you have to follow in my footsteps, you know? Why deprive yourself of that chance at happiness?"

"Because, with her, there is no chance at happiness." Ignis remained impassive, but the subtle shifting of his weight from one leg to the other gave Prompto all the information he needed to know that his friend was feeling emotionally vulnerable and exposed. He didn't press Ignis to continue, but Ignis spoke willingly at this point. "She's made it apparent that there is nothing between us. Never has been and never will be."

"You really don't know women, do you?" A chuckle from Prompto brought an ire expression to Ignis' face, but Prompto quickly recovered and explained himself. "She's afraid. She's doing whatever she can to keep you at a distance so she can't get hurt—or, so she can't hurt you. Maybe there isn't something there, but what if there is? I mean, come on dude; she hasn't done a great job at hiding the fact that she at least enjoys your company and finds you attractive."

Ignis huffed. He started to cross his arms over his chest defensively, but then let his arms fall back to his side. The seconds crept by as he tried to find the right words, but speech evaded him and he was unable to voice any of his thoughts aloud.

As he stood there, he reflected on the last several months and how the time apart allowed him the opportunity to come to terms with what he truly wanted from Aranea. By the Six, he was beyond crazy about her. There was no doubt about that, but it scared him more than he ever thought possible.

There was no true love lost parting with his high school sweetheart as they'd known there was an expiration to their relationship. Despite how long they'd been together and how head over heels he felt for her at the time, everything was so matter-of-fact on their separation and they wished each other well with nothing but absolute fondness.

But whatever _this_ was that he felt for Aranea was different. This was no fairy tale. It wasn't safe and comfortable. It twisted everything he ever thought about love and flipped it on its head. The concept of handing over his heart to someone, only to lose them or to have it broken was foreign and unfamiliar.

Ignis did not do well with foreign or unfamiliar. He was not a fan of the ambiguous.

Everything about his life, up until now, was structured and organized. Everything had a reason and nothing was ever uncertain. He had control over everything and he liked it that way. Relinquishing that control was never an option.

But Altissia happened. And then Noctis was pulled away and everything went dark, literally and metaphorically speaking. Ignis felt lost. And afraid. And confused. And alone.

Then, Aranea walked in.

She helped him. She brought him so much joy and happiness during a time when he felt he had no purpose or meaning. She never gave up on him and stuck by him day after day. It wasn't something she had to do. Ignis was well aware of the fact that she didn't have to offer her assistance with relearning to fight all those years ago after the hobgoblin fight. He knew she could have walked away at any moment because she had bigger, better things to do than to help some guy she barely knew.

But her devotion never waned.

Now, every letter she sent him, every minute that ticked by until she came home, all the sleepless nights worrying if she was alright, every waking minute and every tiny thought revolved around her drew him closer to her. She was irritable, somewhat spiteful, always spontaneous, strong willed—and he loved her for it.

Loved? Was that what this was?

Did he _love_ Aranea Highwind?

Ignis leaned against the window for support, lightheaded and weak, as he allowed himself the chance to, finally, feel what he was always too afraid to open his heart to. He ran a hand down his face and released a breath he didn't realize he was holding. Prompto picked up on the change in expression and behavior. He laid a hand on Ignis' shoulder and Ignis looked his way, an idea forming in his mind as his eye lit up.

"Prompto, I have a favor to ask of you and Gladio, should time allow it."

Prompto blinked several times before nodding enthusiastically, ready and willing to help Ignis with whatever he needed.  
  


* * *

 

Peace.

For once.

It was such a welcome change of pace compared to the last several months.

The team they'd started with had dwindled from seven to four, with two losses and one man sent back to Lestallum with a handful of survivors, ensuring they'd make it back safely. Aranea retreated to her tent after another long day of beating off daemons and traveling. She gave the order to Biggs to send off a transmission to Cor that they were still doing well and a Chocobo was coming his way with papers noting the carnage across Accordo, especially within Altissia.

It was important, Cor said, to keep records for future reference.

Aranea just rolled her eyes. What future?

Still, she did as she was told and wrote out every sordid detail since the day they made landfall at Altissia's port. Upon their arrival, it chilled her to the bone that they were stepping foot on the same hallowed grounds where everything had gone to shit—and, more importantly to her, where Ignis lost his eyesight. She swallowed the lump that, unexpectedly, formed in her throat and pushed onward, forcing the gruesome imagery from her head of what possibly happened during that battle.

Little had been done in the way of repairs since the Battle at Altissia, but the daemons had made themselves at home within the ruined buildings. Once the daemons were out of the way, Aranea ordered her team to spread out and grab what important items they could find, big or small. A potion here, a Phoenix Down there, and everything in between. Nothing was too minute to pass up.

Now, here they were, several months later, hoping for some sort of sign or signal that one day it would be ok to come home. In front of her team, Aranea put on a brave and strong guise. She had to. But as soon as she was alone in her tent, all fronts went out the proverbial window and she collapsed into a heap of exhaustion and failure. To pass the time and to divert her mind from everything, she poured her soul into multi-paged letters to Ignis. He wasn't reading them, that she knew, but she didn't care. If it helped her and it alleviated his worries about her being gone, then what did it matter if he could read them or not?

She would ask how he was and if everything was ok. Was Iris enjoying the room to herself? Was everything alright back home? Yes, she'd write as if he'd asked, she was safe and she'd only picked up a few extra scars while away. She wrote of the weather and how beautiful it felt, though it would be a lot nicer if the sun were out to make it more picturesque. She recounted her battles with various daemons, how she took down _two_ Red Giants nearly all by herself, and that she thought the darkness was getting just a little darker every day—but maybe that was all in her head.

Most importantly, she ended every letter with a decent sized paragraph about how much she missed him and how she couldn't wait to get home to see him. Normally, Aranea wouldn't be so bold with her emotions, especially when it dealt with putting them to paper, but she relied on the fact that Ignis really had no idea what she was sending to him. As a result, she felt gutsy enough to tell him that she did miss him, more than she ever thought possible and with every ounce of her entire being, and hopefully she'd be home soon.

These letters allowed her some sort of outlet to her feelings, but still granted her the ability to guard her heart— and Ignis' heart as well. Yes, she liked him. Admittedly, she was rendered speechless around him, her heart racing involuntarily, and she was so grateful that he could never see the blush that tinted her cheeks when he stood too close to her, but she wasn't ready to open up. She wasn't sure she'd ever be ready.

It was confusing and weird and frustrating and Aranea hated that she wanted to just grab Ignis and kiss him, more passionately than that stupid peck on the lips after Cerberus, but she also didn't want to put herself out there.

So, she didn't and probably never would.

_Fuck_ , she thought. _Emotions are so dumb._

"Lady A!" Biggs called out, his boots clambering about as he searched around outside the tent and then finally opening the flap to said tent. He found Aranea on her stomach by a lantern as she wrote feverously across the lines of the piece of paper under her.

When Biggs trampled into the tent like an animal, she threw a scowl over her shoulder and covered her words up with her hands. "Can I help you?"

"Jus' checkin' to see how yeh were. Been a wee bit since we heard from yeh. Thought maybe you fell asleep er somethin', but obviously tha's not the case," he drawled in his accent, motioning to the paper she was attempting to hide.

"Gods, I just wanted five seconds of peace from you guys. Five. Seconds," she growled, pushing back onto all fours from her stomach and then upwards to her knees, gathering her letter in her hands and folding it in half precariously. She kept one uncertain eye on her comrade and they engaged in a weird sort of stare down, neither one making the first move to blink first.

"Yeh been writing a lot lately," he observed, sitting beside her. "Not somethin' I 'member you doin' before. Lemme guess; those letters headed to Mr. Scientia?"

Her eyes doubled in size. "Hell no! I'm just . . . it's poetry! To a . . . friend!"

Wedge chose that moment to poke his head into the tent. "I heard someone talkin' about poetry?"

"Lady A said she's writin' poetry to a friend," Biggs said.

"Aranea, you have no friends. At least, none that aren't within the vicinity," Wedge noted innocently.

"For the love of the Six, will you both leave me alone?!"

Wedge squeezed into the tent with his two companions and made ample noise as he sat down, much to Aranea's chagrin. Her eyes narrowed and she felt her pulse hasten, wanting to push and kick them right out of the tent, but both Biggs and Wedge smiled ignorantly and refused to budge. Obviously, they knew something she didn't and just that notion alone annoyed her even more. Back and forth her eyes darted between both men crammed with her in the tiny tent as her hands clenched her half-written letter to her side.

"What do you two know that I don't?"

Biggs and Wedge exchanged wider grins between each other. "Do yeh want to say it?" Biggs asked.

Wedge held a hand up and shook his head, smirking. "Oh, no. I insist you tell her."

Aranea's teeth ground noisily. While she counted Biggs and Wedge as two of her closest cohorts, it didn't mean she always appreciated their antics or presence. "Will one of you _please_ tell me what is going on?"

Biggs could hardly contain his excitement, his smile so big that it took over much of his face. "Cor gave us clearance to pack up and move out. Just came in about twenty er so minutes ago."

"You mean—"

Wedge finished her train of thought. "Lady A, we're going home!"

"We leave the end of this week once the new refugees have all been accounted for back in Lestallum," Biggs interjected one final time. "The boat will be in Altissia to pick us up and then we're off."

Aranea, at first apathetic, slowly accepted the fact that yes, they were going home. Soon. Way soon. Like, as soon as the records were received by Cor. Aranea wasn't fond of the guy, but on Ifrit's lair, she'd give the man a huge hug right now. She'd never been more thrilled about anything than she was now.

Her own bed. Actual food. People other than freakin' Biggs and Wedge to talk to. The occasional alcoholic beverage.

A shrill yelp sound escaped her mouth, startling the two men in front of her. She pumped her fists in the air, but the sound of crinkling paper brought her back down to Eos and she looked to see the letter to Ignis in her hand crumpled across the middle.

She didn't forget the greatest reason of all why she was excited to go home.

The recipient of her letters.  
  


* * *

 

Perfectly capable of seeing everything around him, Ignis was led down the narrow halls by two large, muscular men. It seemed he was a patient at some unnamed psych ward, judging by the straitjacket he was confined in. Other cases were screaming to be let out from behind the heavy, metal doors. Some slammed their hands and fists against the windows, begging to be set free. Ignis continued to walk, eyes forward, with hands holding onto each side of him, lest he tried to bolt. Honestly, how could he get away when the straitjacket inhibited any free range of motion? Either way, he wouldn't dare try to escape, though he was still confused as to why he was here in the first place.

It didn't seem like a place he'd be found in, but what did he know anymore. Maybe he snapped recently and went insane?

Unlikely, but still a possibility.

They—Ignis and his . . . doctors? —finally reached his room. One of the hands reached forward and opened the door for him, guiding him inside and sitting him on a metal chair in the middle of the room. The man nodded once, satisfied, before turning on his heels and striding back outside, closing the door behind him. A final click told Ignis that the door was locked and there was no way out.

The walls were stark white. The bed to the side looked unpleasant, with the paint on metal frame chipping and flaking. There was little color to the room. A quick glance around showed there was no key to be found, no sharp object, nothing to help unbind him from the constraints he found himself in.

In the distance, he heard someone screaming for help and the slamming of a metal door, effectively shutting the screams off from the rest of the world. From where Ignis was sitting, his line of sight was just short of seeing anything worthwhile through the small glass pane on the door to his room. He strained every which way, but there was nothing to see.

As he sat back in his chair, giving in to defeat, he heard the sound of heels succinctly clicking down the hall. They came closer and closer until they were right outside his room. Ignis tried to sit up straighter, waiting in anticipation for what would happen next or who would walk into this room. Keys were inserted into the lock and the door swung open to reveal Aranea—only it wasn't the Aranea he was familiar with and she wasn't decked out in her battle gear or typical attire. Instead, Ignis observed, she was dressed as a nurse of the facility.

An exceptionally attractive nurse, at that.

Her attire hardly left anything to the imagination. Her breasts were pushed up by her white, tight corset top hugging tight to her chest and abdomen, exposing a long and deep cleavage line. A white skirt barely covered her bottom and accentuated her curves in all the right places. She wore white stockings over her long and lean legs and stood tall in red heels.

Everything else about Aranea was the same. Her silver hair was pulled back into several small braids with a black ribbon to hold them together. Her smoky makeup was done to emphasize her smoldering eyes and tinted lip gloss highlighted her lips. The harsh, fluorescent lighting reflecting off the gloss, giving a shine in a way that made them look so damn kissable.

He just _had_ to be in a straitjacket right now.

Aranea flipped through a few pages on her clipboard and clicked a pen several times before finally regarding the patient sitting in front of her. "Ignis Scientia?" she droned, bringing the pen to her mouth and biting it lazily.

She even made chewing on pens look sexy.

He needed to get to the bottom of this and figure out what was going on, but Aranea standing there distracted him. Looking around the room, baffled, he settled his eyes firmly on hers, not daring to look at anything below her neckline. "Aranea? Do you not know who I am?"

She rolled her eyes and jutted her hip out, licking her lips before speaking again. "Do you have any idea why you're here?"

Ignis struggled within the confines of the jacket, moving to better situate himself on the chair. Somewhere between the time he was brought into his room and now, his glasses had slipped down his nose and it irritated him that he couldn't push them back up. He looked over the rims at the woman in front of him, still not surrendering to the sight of her curves—though, Gods, did he want to. "I can't say I have the slightest idea why I'm here, though maybe you could enlighten me?"

She sighed, exasperated, as though he was the biggest idiot for asking such a question. Tossing the clipboard on the desk in the corner of the room, Aranea leaned against the ledge of said desk and crossed her ankles, a seductive smirk painted on her face. "Mr. Scientia, are you really so daft?"

He angled his head. "It appears I am. I've never been one to fall under the 'foolish' category, but I must have done _something_ rather irrational to land myself here."

Aranea shook her head and her heels clicked on the concrete floor as she made her way over to Ignis, standing unreasonably close to his side. He felt his cheeks flush as she bent forward, her breasts inches from his face as she checked each strap on the straightjacket, making sure they were fastened correctly and snugly.

He was a gentleman. He'd _never_ stoop so low as to leer upon a woman's chest.

Then his eyes wandered unintentionally and he caught sight of her cleavage. It was damn near impossible for him to pretend he didn't notice or see. His cheeks turned a shade darker and he snapped his head forward, his gaze focused on the door in front of them.

He realized Aranea was now watching him and . . . was she . . . sneering?

"You like what you see?" she goaded, bowing further with narrowed eyes.

Before he could articulate a reasonable response, she has one hand on his shoulder to steady herself as she straddled him.

For the love of the Astrals.

"Well? Do you?" she smirked, a glint of mischievousness in her eyes as she leaned in, her lips ghosting his right ear. "Because it's ok if you do."

His breath caught in his throat and he tried to, vainly, free his arms but to no avail. Originally, he was so mentally absent that he almost missed that she was dragging her tongue along his neck, back up to his ear. Her breath gave him goosebumps and she tantalized him by nibbling on his earlobe, giggling as she did so. His pulse quickened. She pulled back and ran a hand through his hair with one hand while removing his askew glasses with the other, folding and placing them on a random wooden stool behind him.

Ignis knew his eyes were hooded with lust, though he tried to keep a sharp wit about him. Aranea must have picked up on the battle between intellect and desire that waged inside of him because her hand stopped at the base of his neck, playing with the little hairs at the edge of his hairline. She poked her lower lip out, mockingly, as she massaged his neck. "What's wrong? You don't look so well. No wonder they brought you in here," she teased.

He tried to say something. Anything. Dear Gods, why couldn't he formulate a single sentence? Where was his voice?

Her lips were now hovering over his. She smelled like her strawberry lip gloss. Ignis always took her for a lipstick kind of girl, not a lip gloss one. Normally, he abhorred the stuff because of how messy and unseemly it was when caked on a woman's lips, but right now he wasn't complaining. He'd give anything for her to touch those lips to his at this second, but Aranea knew what she was doing. He realized she wasn't about to give in to his wants so easy.

Ignis felt her grind her hips into his and he let out a groan, his eyes rolling to the back of his head. Had it been so long that he felt any sort of contact in this way? He couldn't remember, though that wasn't saying much. With the way she was toying with him, he could barely remember his own name.

"Aww, you liked that?" she cooed, rolling her hips again and eliciting the same response from him. "You know, it's a shame that you're in that jacket."

"You could always undo it," he rasped, thrusting upwards as she leaned forward into his neck. He felt his pants grow tighter on him in response to her actions and he tried to will away what was going on below the beltline, but she caught on quickly.

With her lips tracing light kisses from his neck to his shoulder, she snickered. "I see I did something right," she whispered as her fingers danced down his side to his hips before squeezing his thighs tightly. He knew she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

"Aranea . . ." he moaned, allowing her access again to his neck as she kissed him there, more fervently than before. Ignis knew his hands were tied—literally—but he still squirmed and writhed under her, trying desperately to rid himself of the bonds that hindered him. He wanted to run his hands through her hair, pull her closer to him while he worked her out of her outfit . . .

"Tell me what you want," she needled, leaning back with one hand on his knee and the other on his shoulder. If she leaned back any further, her skirt would be pushed just high enough for him to see—

_No, stop,_ he mentally chided himself, pinching his eyes shut.

Ignis shook his head but he couldn't rid himself of the lustful thoughts that invaded his mind. He wanted her. No, he _needed_ her. He opened his mouth, shut it, opened it. What was wrong with him? He was usually so composed! She'd reduced him to nothing more than a sex-crazed man and—

The corners of Aranea's plump, red lips turned upwards and she pressed herself into him. He closed his eyes and tilted his head back, willing her to kiss him but she denied him that simple, unstated request. Instead, she shifted backward and moved her left hand from his shoulder, down his arm, all the way to the hemline of his asylum-issued pants, tugging ardently. His hips bucked upwards, imploring her to continue.

_Please,_ he begged inwardly. Just a little further.

"Tell me you want me."

His eyes were half-opened and he tried to find the words to express just how bad he craved her in this moment, his erection throbbing against her. He couldn't take it. "Aranea, I-I . . ."

"I can't hear you," she spurred him on as her fingers reached further and further, under his belly button and alongside the V-muscles beside his hips. He let a gasp escape his lips and his arms, once again, flinched in the sleeves of the jacket he was bound within. He was putty in her hands, compulsorily responding to every stroke and caress. He closed his eyes, inhaling through clenched teeth.

She was pulling the band of his pants lower and he closed his eyes.

Lower.

This was it.

As she brought her lips to his, he leaned up.

But there was nothing there.

He snapped his eyes open and suddenly—

There were no white walls. No sounds of screaming patients.

Aranea wasn't sitting on his lap anymore.

In fact, there was no pressure on him whatsoever. On top of that, he was devoid of seeing anything but emptiness and darkness.

Ignis was laying on his back, tangled in his bedsheets. It was all a dream. Nothing more than a sex-riddled, lust-filled dream.

As he started to sit up, the thought hit him that it probably wasn't best for him to get out of bed just yet. Not only was he completely snarled within his sheets, but he was hard and very much turned on.

"Prompto? Gladio? Are you here?" he hissed, listening for their snoring or heavy breathing. After a second and stark silence, he gathered he was alone for the night, both his friends on guard shift, daemon duty, or just away for whatever reason.

Ignis laid still for a few more minutes, his heart still racing, mouth dry. It had been a long time—maybe his teenage years—since he'd had a dream like this. Nightmares? Sure, those were a regular occurrence. But this? It was an entirely new sensation.

Well, not entirely new—he was human, after all. But it had been a long while.

He counted to three and freed himself from the sheets that trapped him, throwing them away from his body as he sat at the edge of his bed. He grimaced as his arousal pressed a little too tight against his pajama pants before he warily made his way to the bathroom.

Once in the bathroom, he shut the door behind him, silently thanking the Gods for allowing him the solitude he so desperately needed right now. It would take a long, cold shower to bring him back down to Eos after that dream.

He turned the shower on, colder than would have liked, and rested his forehead on the chilled bathroom wall before stripping down and stepping into the steady stream of water.

Whether he wanted to admit it or not, Aranea had a hold on him. Tonight's dream proved that.

For what it was worth, he wasn't about to deny that he liked it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Hokay! So, first of all, I hope that was ok. :) 
> 
> Second, I believe I've outlined everything from here on out and it looks like this will round out at about 21-22 chapters. There is a chance that that chapter count could change (if inspiration for something hits me or if I find that certain scenes could be condensed and combined, stuff like that), but not drastically by any means!
> 
> And finally, I hope everyone had a great week this week! Once again, you all motivate me to no end with your reviews. I wish I could buy you guys presents or throw a party for you all or something lol. Complete with cupcakes and party hats! I just don't know how else to convey how much it means to me that you all take time out of your day to read this story. I love you!


	12. Is This A Date?

**Water Under the Bridge  
Is This a Date?**

When Aranea arrived home, she half expected to find Ignis waiting for her, but was sorely disappointed when she learned he was gone. Instead, he was off closer to Cape Caem with Gladio and Prompto.

Ignis was on a mission. He was ready to confess his feelings to Aranea. It was time to lay the cards on the table and put his heart on the line. It just so happened that he was also ready to unveil how far he'd come within his culinary accomplishments as well. He wanted to make Aranea a dish that resembled the dream dish she'd talked about years ago—the seafood pasta meal she practically drooled over.

Killing two birds with one stone, he'd cook for her and, over dinner, he'd declare his undying love for her. She'd reciprocate, but not without chiding him for how long it took for him to come to terms with his feelings. They'd lean over the table, kiss passionately, and live happily ever after.

Or, something like that.

With Cor's approval, and with Prompto at the helm, the three piled into an available truck and jetted off to the coast of Cape Caem, where they hoped to encounter a Karlabos—a, now rare, beast whose meat would pair well with the dish that Ignis had in mind. Gladio and Prompto were all too eager to help Ignis as it was incredibly atypical for the three of them to have any time together anymore. They were usually busy with fighting daemons, guarding Lestallum, or heading off to Hammerhead (though Prompto was _always_ up for a trip to Hammerhead if it meant a chance to see Cindy).

The battle against the Karlabos was almost fun and, unexpectedly, easy. They cracked jokes between each link strike, bumping fists and laughing while taking down the crustacean. Ignis moved with no issues, now more accustomed to fighting using only his sense of hearing, very much tuned in to what was going on around him. Every time he landed a hit, Prompto or Gladio cheered.

Once the animal was felled, Ignis closed in on his prey, feeling around and slicing the meat that he'd need. There was so much that he almost debated leaving some behind but, between the three of them, they managed to pack every last bit into the cooler that they could. Afterward, they found a nearby haven and Gladio got to work setting up camp.

Neither one of them cared about the sleep they were foregoing, instead choosing to stay up well into the next day, reminiscing about everything in their lives. Prompto took silly pictures of them and they looked back on the old photographs, with Gladio and Prompto detailing most of the photographs to Ignis so he could remember, too. When a picture of Noctis showed up on the screen, they'd turn serious. The absence of their Prince was raw in their hearts, but they pushed aside their grief, opting instead to rejoice in the memories of their missing friend.

No one felt the least bit upset when it came time to pack up and head home because they knew that it meant possible good things for Ignis. At first, Ignis remained relatively tight-lipped about his plans, not wanting to reveal too much in case his plan went awry. Plus, he didn't want to deal with the teasing he was sure to receive from Prompto and Gladio.

Somehow though, in the middle of the trip home, Ignis let slip his recent dreams of Aranea. It started innocently enough with him just talking about the premise but, the more he talked, the more he realized how much he should have kept quiet about the whole thing. He immediately shut his mouth when he realized what it was he was saying, but the damage was done. There was no turning back from that divulgence.

"A _nurse_?" Prompto howled.

"How did you keep something like this from us?!" Gladio jeered. He was sitting in the backseat and he pushed Ignis' head forward in jest, but his hand was slapped in retaliation.

"Was she a _hot nurse_? If you know what I mean?"

"Prompto, eyes on the road," Ignis reprimanded, knowing his friend well enough to know that Prompto was easily distracted when it came to driving. "And that is none of your business."

"SHE WAS!" Prompto screeched as he and Gladio high-fived each other. Ignis just rolled his eye and sunk low in his seat.

He thought that, maybe, both men would grow tired of ragging on him, but the harassment continued until they got home. It got worse as they unloaded the truck, and it reached an infuriating pinnacle when they made their way to their room. They wanted to know _everything_. It was irritating, but Ignis knew he had no one to blame but himself.

So, he tried to appease them by telling them the more toned-down aspects of his dream, skirting around how sensual it was, though he took care to mention that it was set in an asylum and he was unable to do much of anything while restrained by a straitjacket.

Prompto sneered, nudging Ignis with his elbow. "You know what that sounds like to me? Sounds like you're crazy about Aranea, but you don't feel like you can do anything about it because your hands are tied. Get it? Because it's an insane asylum? And your hands are in the jacket? Get it? Get it?"

"You actually believe that rubbish? That dreams have underlying meanings?"

"Sure I do, especially if believing it means giving a release to those repressed emotions of yours! A dream like this can't be entirely random. Even you can't deny that."

"Oh, for Astrals' sake. You can twist any dream to insinuate a number of different meanings. Don't be foolish," Ignis rebuked.

"Whatever you say, dude."  


* * *

 

At the end of the week, once Aranea was settled, Ignis nervously walked down the hall to her room. His heart thundered in his chest and his palms, having foregone wearing his gloves for the day, were slick with sweat. Every few steps, he would start to turn around to go back to his own room, but then would gather the courage to continue. Once he reached the end of the hall, he tugged at his shirt, then his sleeves, then pulled at his collar and raised a fist to knock on the door, quietly as not to disturb the rest of the hall.

The door opened and a voice—not Aranea's—greeted him happily. "Ignis! My Gods, I feel like it's been ages! How are you?!" He felt arms wrap around his abdomen and smiled as he realized it was Iris who answered the door. It wasn't often he spoke to Gladio's younger sister anymore. She'd become one of Lestallum's most sought after daemon hunters, rivaling her brother and even Cor himself.

Ignis returned the hug. "Iris, it's good to hear your voice. I hope you're well?" he asked as she nodded enthusiastically, but then quickly responded with a "yes" instead as he couldn't see her nodding. They both caught up briefly on what they'd been up to as of late. When their conversation ran its course, Ignis almost turned to walk away before remembering why he was there in the first place.

When he asked if Aranea was around, Iris told him no. Aranea was in town for a bit and would be back later, but she wasn't privy to the exact time. Iris promised to let Aranea know that he'd stopped by for her, but Ignis asked instead that Iris let Aranea know that he'd very much appreciate her company come Saturday night, if possible.

He knew Iris had that same Amicitia smirk planted on her face that her brother always got when things were just too funny to let go. She understood what it was that Ignis was implying with this invitation. Once more, and slyly, she agreed to let Aranea know of his message and both hugged each other goodbye.

Saturday came too soon and Ignis was in full-on 'get-stuff-done' mode. He put Prompto and Gladio to work, having them clean and organize their room while he busied himself in the kitchen, eagerly cooking the best seafood pasta dish he could.

It had taken a lot of failed recipes and plenty of emotional breakdowns to get back to this point in his culinary expertise, but Ignis had finally come full circle. To make things easier for him, he made sure that every spice had its place on the counter, every utensil was meticulously set in the drawer by the stove to make it possible to find them, and the pantry, though paltry, was organized to a fault. As long as everything was kept in place and remained relatively unmoved, Ignis found that he was just as good, if not better than before at cooking.

He just prayed that his progressions reflected on the dish he wanted to share with Aranea.

Tonight, while whistling, Prompto ran a rag over the nightstands, consoles, and ledges in the room, leaving no surface undusted. Typically, Prompto was careless in his cleaning, but right now he was trying very hard to clean up to the same standards that Ignis used to clean to. Prompto just wanted everything to be perfect for Ignis and Aranea. He was a romantic at heart.

As he stood on his tiptoes, cleaning shelves that had never seen so much as tchotchke or picture frame, he paused his whistling and sneered, calling out for Ignis' attention. When the advisor looked up, Prompto giggled. "So, how long should we stay gone for? I mean, if we're being realistic, you shouldn't need more than . . . what? Thirty seconds?"

"Excuse me?" Ignis balked at the offensive insinuation, nearly letting the spatula fall from his hands. "What, pray tell, are you implying?"

Gladio picked up a laundry basket from beside the blonde and nudged him as he walked by. "Prom, come on. That's not very nice."

"Thank you, Gladio," Ignis sighed, relieved that his friend had his back.

Gladio stifled a giggle. "We all know a minute should be more than enough time for them."

This comment sent both men into hysterics. Ignis frowned, taking the handle of the pan with all the Karabos meat and flicking his wrist once, twice, three times, tossing the meat in the air so each side was browned and cooked evenly. "You two are absolutely juvenile," he rebuked, but this made them laugh harder.

"Aw, hey now! At least _one_ of us will be getting—"

Just as Ignis tried to stop Prompto from finishing his sentence, knowing where exactly it was headed, Gladio piped up with his own revelation. "Who said he's the only one getting anything?"

Ignis clamped his mouth shut and returned to cooking, not wanting to bring any unwarranted attention back on him while Prompto whirled around, stunned. "Hold up! What the hell? When have _you_ been getting laid? And with _who_?"

Gladio threw a random sock into the laundry basket and picked the basket up, setting it on his hip and smirking. "Don't worry about it."

"Oh, that's just typical," he snapped. "'Don't worry about it'? You know, you _would_ still have girls lined up to fuck you."

Gladio puffed his chest out proudly. "Girl. One. Singular, _thank you very much_."

Ignis snorted and Prompto's face fell. "One? _One?_ Sheesh, what kind of twilight zone are we in that Iggy is possibly having sex tonight—" Ignis voiced his protests from his spot by the stove, but he was drowned out as Prompto continued his tirade, "—Gladio is having sex with _one_ girl, and I'm _still_ not getting so much as a wink from Cindy? This is bullshit!"

The larger man placed a heavy hand on Prompto's shoulder in consolation. "Don't worry, man; you still have your hand," Gladio joked as Prompto shoved past him with an irritated 'fuck off' under his breath.

Despite the random quarreling, the three worked together in sync to get the place ready for the evening. There was one more instance where the three were distracted by conversation; Gladio and Prompto asked Ignis if he was going to tell Aranea of his plans to backtrack to the Royal Tombs and dungeons for information on Ardyn.

Ever since the bar and overhearing the conversation between the hunters about Ardyn, it was all Ignis could do not to run out and discover information at any given moment. The thought of that man traversing around the world, unaccounted for, made the hairs on the back of Ignis' neck stand on end. Since then, he had dropped hints here and there to Gladio and Prompto throughout the last month that he was interested in finding out more about the Niflheim Chancellor. At first, when he tentatively brought it up, Prompto and Gladio denied that he'd even find anything at all and they tried to convince him to let the issue go. Telling him to brush it aside did nothing to quell his curiosity and he became insatiable, his inquisitiveness never waning. It didn't matter if he'd find anything worthwhile; he had to try. When the two men asked Ignis again what his plans were as far as telling Aranea of his leaving, his silence was answer enough They went back to cooking and cleaning after that.

The aroma of Ignis' cooking wafted through the air. Gladio and Prompto begged to have one taste, one bite, just a small morsel of what he was making as it had been far too long since they'd enjoyed a proper meal from him. They only withdrew when Ignis swore that he made more than enough, not only for him and Aranea, but the two of them and even Cid as well.

Cid—poor man—had been beside himself cooped up in a new city, his cantankerous personality the talk of the town lately. Ignis knew the seafood he used to cook all those years ago greatly pleased Cid and he hoped this would pacify him for a while.

A few hours later, the room was finally cleaned. The food was simmering on the stove and Ignis requested one of the men—he didn't care whom—to watch it while he stepped away for a quick shower before Aranea arrived. It didn't take long for him to get ready. He combed his hair back and donned some slightly distressed jeans with a white undershirt and gray cardigan, an outfit he rarely wore but remembered at the last minute. He asked Prompto to find said outfit for him in his closet, not wanting to pick out the wrong thing and risk looking incredibly foolish in front of Aranea after all these months.

Upon getting back to the stove, sleeves rolled up to his elbows and the faint scent of cologne on his neck and collar, a sharp knock sounded at the door. All three men stopped what they were doing with Prompto and Gladio spinning to look at Ignis. Without looking up from the pan, he pointed languidly and said: "Well, don't be rude; someone get the door for the lady."

Gladio grabbed his book from his perfectly made bed and Prompto checked to make sure he had everything before both headed out, smirks plastered on both their faces. They opened the door and there, looking cute but not overly done up, was Aranea. She opted to wear something a little more low-key tonight: a plain black t-shirt and jeans. Nonetheless, Prompto and Gladio could tell she clearly went out of her way to look good, even if Ignis would be none the wiser.

"We were just leaving," Gladio smiled, stepping aside so Aranea could enter the room. She moved cautiously between the two men as they snickered under their breaths.

Over his shoulder, Prompto waved a hand. "Save some food for us, Iggy! We'll be back later!"

"Don't do anything we wouldn't do!" Gladio added.

"That doesn't leave much for me to do then, does it?" Ignis retorted right as his friends exited, leaving Aranea standing awkwardly in the middle of the room. Now alone, to a certain extent, she played with a crisp envelope she'd folded into her back pocket. It was her final letter she was in the middle of writing to Ignis before getting the good news that she was coming home. Instead of sending it by Chocobo, however, she decided she would hand it to him in person today. Maybe. The decision in her mind hadn't been finalized yet.

Aranea almost jumped when Ignis emerged from the kitchenette, a dish towel in his possession to wipe his hands. He smiled knowingly. "Please, make yourself at home."

A pink hue stained her cheeks, her breath catching in her throat as she flinched, tearing her hand away from the envelope. She wasn't sure if it was the time apart or if it was something else, but she had to admit that he looked utterly gorgeous. "Long time no see," she choked out, barely able to maintain a strong façade in front of him.

"Aren't you a sight for sore eyes," he quipped, clearly amused at his own joke. When he didn't hear Aranea react, he frowned. "That . . . that was a joke."

At first, Aranea was unsure how to take the jab at his own handicap, but when she saw him finally crack a smile, she grinned in return. "Good to know you haven't lost your sense of humor while I was away. You still think you're _so_ funny."

"My dear, I don't _think_ I'm funny; I _know_ I am."

She clucked her tongue in dismay and rolled her eyes, her hands behind her back as she continued to stand uncomfortably. Ignis smiled, welcoming her to, again, make herself at home as he returned to the stove, checking one last time on the food before deeming it worthy enough to officially plate and serve.

While he was occupied in the kitchen, Aranea strode around the room, wondering if she should take a seat on the bed, the random chair by the entertainment console, or go ahead and sit at the dinner table. Before she could decide, her eyes landed on the drawer of the nightstand, ajar to reveal a stack of tattered and ruined envelopes, marred in their journies across the world.

Her envelopes.

Aranea froze. She hadn't realized he'd actually _kept_ all her letters. In all honesty, she thought maybe he would have tossed them or something. Really, what reason would he have to keep them at all?

Gingerly she knelt down, hovering on the balls of her feet as she took one envelope between her fingers. Indeed, it was her handwriting on the front with an address directly to him. She peeked over the bed to make sure Ignis was still busy with dinner before she pulled the drawer open a little further, her fingers fanning the envelopes out so she could get a better look. They were all there—every last one.

Unreal. She never imagined he'd hold on to them, but he did. It was overwhelming, everything she was feeling at this moment. The final letter in her pocket remained and she wondered if she should sneak it on top of the other ones laid before her or give it to him directly. If she put this one in the drawer with the rest, Ignis would never know and her feelings would remain safe. Then again, it wasn't like he was aware of the extent of her feelings now. That is, unless he had someone else read her letters to him, but that was unlike him to have done.

"Find something of interest?" Ignis' accented voice drawled as he breezed behind her coolly, knowing full well what it was she was looking at.

Quickly, she snapped the drawer shut and stood up, spinning around to face him, self-conscious. "Oh, uh . . . no. Just admiring the woodwork, that's all."

He smirked at her white lie. "Well, when you're finished with that, come have a seat. I think you'll be pleasantly surprised with what I was able to pull together for dinner."

Curious, she cocked her head and shadowed close behind to the table where Ignis put down two plates with the Karlabos meat and pasta dish, almost exactly like the one she described years ago when asked about her favorite food. He smirked with satisfaction, crossing his arms once both plates were set down next to two glasses of water, one for each of them.

"How . . . when did . . . with wh—"Aranea stuttered, absolutely stunned that he went to such great lengths to recreate what she'd yearned for.

Ignis acted as if the entire dinner was no big deal. "I had time on my hands and finally felt confident enough in my abilities to cook again," he explained, pulling out the closest chair to him so she could sit. Aranea was hesitant at first but then she smiled, sitting in the chair as he pushed her in. He continued as he took the seat opposite of her. "Gladio and Prompto, of course, were the eyes of the operation when it came to procuring the necessary ingredients. I ventured a guess that, after all your hard work these last several months, I should prepare you something to take your mind off things. At least, for the next few hours or so."

Aranea was touched. More than touched, actually. When Iris let her know that Ignis wanted her to come by, she hadn't expected any of this. She felt the envelope in her pocket press against her earnestly, daring her to present it to him right then and there. She wanted to. Oh, Gods, how she wanted to. If Ignis could see her, he'd know she was waging an internal battle mere feet from him. As it were, he blindly indicated that it was alright to eat and Aranea ignored the burning urge to hand over the envelope in favor of satisfying her newfound appetite for pasta and seafood.

As they ate, they caught up on the lost months between them. It was like no time had passed between the pair. They teased each other relentlessly, laughed at dumb jokes, and Ignis listened while she told him about her trip back to Lucis. All of this came between bites of food—Aranea praising each bite and repeating how it was the best dinner she'd ever had. Understandably, it wasn't the first time Ignis had ever heard those words from anyone, but it was practically gospel coming from Aranea.

In the midst of another mouthful of food—of which Ignis scolded her for, as it was impolite to speak with one's mouth full—Aranea snickered. "You know, Specs, if I didn't know any better, I'd say this was a date," she tested, pointing the prongs of her fork at him.

The statement caught him off guard. He wiped the corners of his mouth with his napkin, trying to remain calm at her accusation. He hadn't intended for this night to come off as a date, but he'd be lying if he said he wasn't alluding to any type of romance. After all, wasn't that the entire reason that he got the Karlabos meat, made this fantastic meal, got somewhat dressed up, and invited her over?

When he didn't respond, Aranea laughed, taking his silence for refutation. "Don't worry, I know it's not. You're just trying to be nice, I know," she said, playfulness tinging her words. "Besides, I don't do the dating scene anyway, so you're safe there."

Those were not the words that Ignis was expecting. His carefully laid plan was slowly unraveling at that avowal. "That's quite a bold statement."

Aranea shrugged. "Bold, but true."

Ignis weighed her words, unintentionally scrunching his nose in response. "Surely _someone_ like you has no trouble at all finding a suitable person to date," he remarked, taking a sip of his water and leaning back in his chair.

"No, not at all. It has nothing to do with who wants me, but more of who I want . . . or don't want, rather. Or something. I don't know."

"I'm not following."

Another shrug of her shoulder, this time accompanied with a quick toss of her hair away from her eyes. "I swore off dating, relationships, and that love bullshit a long time ago."

Ignis paused a beat, waiting for her to explain. After remaining quiet, he prompted her with: "And why is that?"

She examined him, seeing that he was genuine about wanting to learn the whys and how's of her choices. "You asked for it." Aranea loudly exhaled and gulped down the rest of her water. "Alright. Well, my last relationship . . . he was everything to me. I mean it—he was my world. We met and went through the Niflheim military training academy together, becoming practically inseparable. Once we graduated the academy, we, along with Biggs and Wedge, made the decision to go on our own and work for ourselves. But we learned quickly that the mercenary life is not for the faint of heart, you know? We were living gil to gil, barely making ends meet. Well, he had the bright idea to commission into the Niflheim military so that we could have a steady life together. I was worried that the military would force him to choose work over me, but he promised me it would never be like that. So, I believed him, against my better judgment, and he commissioned while I remained a mercenary.

"At first, everything was as he said it would be. He was high in the ranks so his schedule was a great compromise between what we both wanted—him getting enough face time in battle and a hefty paycheck, while I still got to see him more often than not. I was crazy in love with him and young and stupid.

"Then, the time came where he was gone more than he was home. The distance and the workload caused us to fight a lot and it always ended with me accusing him of choosing work over me, putting his selfish desires over wanting anything to do with me. Trust me, I know I'm a bitch for even throwing that in his face, but I digress.

"We had one particularly bad fight before he was sent to the frontlines of a Niflheim/Lucian battle," Aranea faded off, becoming lost in the memories. She smiled ironically. "I don't even remember if we apologized or hugged or kissed or anything before he left, but it was the last time I saw him. He . . . he was killed two days later with a shot to the head."

She played with her hands under the table, suddenly very interested in her cuticles as she spoke. "I think, had Biggs and Wedge not been there to take care of me those next few months, I probably would have died of starvation or something. I was an absolute wreck, Ignis. For years, I blamed him, blamed myself, blamed the entire world. The three of us—Biggs, Wedge, and I—tried to make it work as mercenaries, but the money just wasn't there and eventually I commissioned in the military, too. But I swore, from the day he died, I would never put my heart out there again, just to have it ripped out like that. I wouldn't risk falling for someone who made work their relationship, or who could possibly die at any moment's notice like that."

She'd opened herself up to Ignis and, yet, he sat, quiet and paralyzed. He had a million things we wanted to say, but nothing seemed appropriate. Ignis went the safe route and expressed his condolences. "Aranea, I'm so sorry. I had no idea."

Aranea let out a condescending laugh. "Save it, Specs. I've passed the point where all the civil pleasantries mean much of anything anymore, as awful as that probably sounds."

Ignis nodded and said, "All things considered, though, you can't fault a man for trying to survive. Maybe I'm biased, but I know how it is having your life revolve around work and responsibilities."

"Yeah, but you didn't sell your soul to the devil—A.K.A. the Nifs."

Now she wasn't making sense. Ignis narrowed his eyes. "I'm not following. How can you say that when you were in the ranks of their military when we met you?"

"That's because I met Ardyn," Aranea stated matter-of-factly, taking note of how the name inflicted a touch of fear on the advisor's face. "We got to talking and he swindled me with promises of money and stability. I think he knew how emotionally wrecked I was and took advantage of it. I was easily manipulatable and he obviously needed someone to do his bidding without so much opposition. Enter me, stage left. I was his girl."

Aranea studied Ignis from across the table and he remained stoic. When he looked at her, emerald-green eye now white and intimidating, she veered her gaze back to her plate, pushing the leftover food around. Her fork scraped roughly against the plate, punctuating the silence.

In a strange change in subject, Ignis pursed his lips. "So . . . you really have no want to court again?" he prodded, almost as if the entire conversation were forgotten in his mind.

Aranea tilted her head back, eyeing him down the length of her nose, wondering—but gradually catching on—why he was so interested in her love life right now. "I guess if the right guy came along and swept me off my feet, I'd give him a shot," she mused.

"Would you?"

"I wouldn't be opposed to the idea . . ."

A shift between them. Ignis gathered that Aranea was leaned forward in her chair, anticipating his next words. _Now's your chance_.

"Aranea, there's something I've been meaning to tell you. Something that has been weighing on my mind for some time now," he started, sitting up straighter with his hands in his lap. He heard her stop and he was curious how she was looking at him right now. Was she concerned? Frustrated? Indifferent?

"Oh?" Was the only thing she said, one eyebrow cocked as she put her fork down, giving him her undivided attention.

He took a deep breath, priming himself for the best way to tell her what was in his heart. Nerve-wracking moments were everyday occurrences throughout Ignis' life. He'd had more than his fair share of them before: Waiting up for Noctis' hopefully stellar exam grades to be posted, all those times he had to stand before his Majesty in front of the Royal Court, a vague phone call one night from the Insomnian police stating that Prompto and Noctis were in custody for their antics at a nearby arcade. However, all those instances, and more, had nothing on this moment right here, right now. He was a rattled ball of nerves and there was nothing he could do to hide that.

But he was ready. It was as good a time as any. Just as he opened his mouth, a muffled ring of Aranea's phone interrupted him. After the third ring, she growled and rolled her eyes. "Sorry, Specs. One second?"

Ignis gave a curt nod and she answered the phone with an impolite, "What, Cor?" For the next few minutes, he listened as she bickered back and forth with him, her voice loud and terse one minute, then quiet and strained the next. "I literally just got back from fuckin' Accordo, and now you want to send me away again? Why the fuck can't you go? . . . No, of course I don't want to watch over this fucking city. Do you not know me? . . . Well, shit, if I had known that, I wouldn't have unpacked my stuff so fast when I got home!"

While she was talking, Ignis sat back and reconsidered his confession. Was now really the best time to tell Aranea just how much he cared for her? She already told him she wasn't looking for any sort of relationship, and for some rather valid reasons. Ignis couldn't promise that, when Noctis returned (because he would), that he would also return to making his life all about his work. He couldn't promise that he'd never put his life on the line for his liege, because that's what he was sworn to do.

He closed his eye and dropped his head, deciding that it was best he try to forget his feelings for Aranea. It just wasn't meant to be. Maybe if things were different and life wasn't so complicated, they would have worked out. For now, he'd have to be happy with just having her as a close friend and comrade.

". . . Yeah, I know. Fine, when do you want me ready? Ok, yeah. Thanks," she sighed, waiting a second before slamming the phone face down on the table.

When she didn't immediately offer up what it was that Cor wanted, though Ignis could very easily assume what he asked of her, he cleared his throat and placed his napkin from his lap right next to his plate. "Leaving again, so soon?"

Aranea shook her head. "Tomorrow afternoon, Iris, Biggs, Wedge, and I are driving out to the old Meldacio Hunter's Headquarters. Some of the hunters out there said they're having a hard time fending for themselves. They want some backup for a week or so until everything gets back under control." She chuckled sarcastically under her breath and turned her attention back to Ignis. "Sorry, before we were _rudely_ interrupted, you wanted to tell me something?"

Ignis' mouth went dry and he tried to stall for time by taking a sip of his water, but that would only hold her off for so long. Finally, he put his glass down and moved his chair forward slightly so he was closer to the table. "I . . . I . . . well . . ."

She huffed irritatingly. "Spit it out, Specs. What's on your mind?"

He imagined her eyebrows furrowed and her eyes narrowed. Her elbows were probably resting on the table and he wanted to call her out on it, even though he wasn't entirely sure if he was right in that assumption or not. Another long pause and he found his voice again. "I'm . . . Well, you see . . . I-I'm . . . leaving, too," he finally said. "Steyliff Grove. I want to find out more about Ardyn. Who he is, what are his motives, something, anything. I can't say for certain, but there has to be something, somewhere, about him."

Aranea didn't like the idea of this, that much Ignis could tell. He figured she was caught off guard by it. Her breathing had all but stopped and he couldn't detect any movements from her. "Alone?" she asked coldly.

"Oh, absolutely not. I plan to ask Talcott to accompany me on this quest. Between the two of us, we're bound to find something. I've also heard that he is particularly fond of the times of Lucis past, so what better way to get more acquainted with the history of the world and land than to go to the tombs and dungeons?"

He wasn't looking for her approval, but he was hoping she'd say something. He despised when she went silent like this. It always meant she was seething or that she was unnerved. Ignis reached across for her hand, but she jerked back. Whatever tender moment budding between them just minutes before was suddenly gone, replaced with sadness and irritation. There was no point in sitting, making idle conversation anymore. Slowly, he pulled his hand away and rose to his feet, exhaling while taking her plate and stacking it on his.

As he walked to the kitchenette, her meek voice stopped him. "Are you sure this is a good idea?"

With both dishes in his hand, he turned back toward her. "Aranea, I have to do this. I _need_ to do this. Returning to the royal dungeons can't be any less safe than if I were out battling daemons with everyone else. There's no such thing as 'safety' anymore and there hasn't been for some time."

The chair she was sitting in scratched against the carpet and soon she was in front of him. They both stood there in a stalemate of sorts, knowing neither one could convince the other that they were right and the other was wrong.

As if to offset the tension between them, Aranea began to take the plates from Ignis' hands and his grip on them tightened. "You are my guest. You needn't do anything lest it's to relax. Allow me to take care of this," he stated firmly. Aranea stubbornly tried again to grab the plates. Using his height to his advantage, Ignis raised them high above his head so she could no longer reach them.

She growled and threw her hands up. "Fine, fine. You win."

With a forced smirk, he glided passed her with ease, putting the plates in the sink and washing them with scalding hot water. Aware that Aranea was watching him from the entryway of the kitchenette, he smirked and threw a sideways glance her way. "We've come far since we last stood here together," he ruminated, placing one of the clean plates off to the side as he finished up with the second one.

It felt like just yesterday that they were standing in the same kitchen, her feeding him playfully and him unsure of how he really felt about her. His words stirred something inside her and she crossed her arms, leaning one shoulder against the entryway. "Yeah, we have. . . haven't we?"

They faced each other, both hoping the other would say something. There was so much in the air between them, unsaid words palpable. When neither gathered the courage to speak, Ignis returned to washing the plate and, when finished, he dried both dishes off and stacked them in the cabinet behind him. With both hands still on the cabinet knobs, he sighed and looked at her with a sad smile. "You'd best be off, Aranea. You'll need your sleep if you hope to be in any decent shape for tomorrow, loathe it were for me to be the one to send you away."

Aranea blinked, her arms falling to her sides. She knew, in her heart, there was more he wanted to say, but the words he spoke made it clear he wasn't ready to reveal anything to her yet. The envelope from earlier once more entered her mind and she reached into her back pocket for it, examining it a final time. If he had nothing left to say to her, that was fine. It didn't mean she had no words for him, written or otherwise.

She stepped forward and nudged him with the corner of it. A flash of recognition passed across Ignis' eye and he took it from her as she laid a hand on his arm, squeezing it. "You stay safe out there until I get back, ok? Don't try to play hero because you feel you have something you need to prove."

"You as well," he breathed, taking in her touch and her proximity to him. With one final squeeze, her hand fell away and he heard her footsteps recede to the door. She paused one final time and opened the door, softly closing it behind her.

From the kitchenette, Ignis dragged his feet to his bed, final envelope in hand. Something told him that this envelope held a letter that expressed a hell of a lot more than any other letter she'd sent him before. Call it a hunch, but Ignis flipped it and twirled it in his hands, more desperate than ever to know what it said.

Why was this so hard? Three simple words. That's all. Nothing more, nothing less. He felt a heavy sadness wash over him. It wasn't that he was regretting the fact that he was withholding his feelings from her, but Gods, it didn't make anything any easier. Knowing also that she was worried again about his safety and wellbeing, especially when it came to exploring the Royal Tombs and dungeons, made him restless, though he'd have to push those anxieties aside.

It was high time that _someone_ knew who this 'Ardyn Izunia' character really was.

He stretched behind him and felt around the surface of his nightstand for his phone. Using voice commands, he asked to be connected to Talcott. One ring, then two, and Talcott's voice sounded through the speakerphone.

"Talcott? It's Ignis Scientia. I have a rather large request to ask of you, should you choose to accept it . . ."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: A lot of notes here, so here we go!
> 
> I'm late I know! So sorry! I let this week get away from me and then I spent a huge chunk of today rereading and editing this. As I wrote this chapter, it became a lot more detailed than I orignally anticipated, so that was interesting to work through. 
> 
> I also got the news that I'll be headed to Atlanta, Georgia this week for 8 days for work. I anticipate long long hours at work and, coupled with the fact that this next chapter will be lore heavy and lacking in the HighSpecs aspect, I am going to try my damndest to get the chapter out on time. However, I also am trying to be very realistic and note that it's possible that the chapter may be a day or so late, if not a little later. I will keep my Tumblr updated (same name as here, in case you need it!), but that's where my mind is at right now.
> 
> Also, holy bajeebus!! I upped the rating to M and you all STILL are following! Wow, was not expecting that!! My gratitude is beyond words at this point! Also, glad to know that the final scene in the last chapter went well with all of you :) 
> 
> As always, you all blow me away every week. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for you. I love you. I appreciate you. And I thank you from the bottom of my heart.


	13. Tampered Evidence

**Water Under the Bridge**  
**Tampered Evidence**  
  


_"Get down!"_

_"They're too strong!"_

_"Biggs, throw me a potion!"_

_"Lady A, we're all out!"_

_"Iris, where are you going?"_

_"Shit!"_

_"Someone help!"_

_"What the fuck is happening??"_

_"Where's my backup??"_

_"SOMEONE HELP!"_

 

* * *

 

A week and a few days later, Ignis and Talcott found themselves within the Steyliff Grove dungeon. Talcott was all too eager to take Ignis up on his offer to explore the dungeon, practically begging to leave as soon as possible. Over the last several years, he had grown into a confident and bright young man. He was never going to be the daemon hunter that everyone else was, but he'd come into his own in his own way, branching off toward machinery, history, and the quieter subjects that no one else seemed to want to bother with these days.

As a result, Talcott was a great partner to bring along on this journey. Not only was he quick on the uptake and still somewhat strong enough to hold his own in battle, he never once left Ignis' side throughout their descent into the depths of the dungeon. Although Ignis had made the decision to bring his cane for the trip, Talcott still assisted him when necessary over the ruins.

"Watch your step, sir; it's rocky here," Talcott cautioned respectfully, taking Ignis under the elbow as he guided the man across some pillars and boulders under the glow of the mysterious water above them. At the bottom of the dungeon, despite the darkness of the world outside, there was still an aura of light that glowed around them, as if the sun had never been hidden by angry clouds.

Once over the wreckage, Ignis nodded his head in silent thanks and they stood in the middle of the vast room. Talcott stared straight up into the aquamarine pool and marveled at the sight. "This is incredible," he awed in amazement, sending a ping of jealousy through Ignis.

Incredible indeed. It was the dungeon, difficult and harrowing as it were, that housed one of the more beautiful sights Ignis had ever encountered in his entire life. Now, trapped behind scar tissue and emptiness, he yearned to see what Talcott was seeing, but even his memory of the place had gone hazy, dulled by the passing of years to the recesses of his mind.

Once the initial shock of the spectacle had worn off, Talcott surveyed the area around them with his hands on his hips. Neither one knew where to begin. This wasn't a library or a school classroom; books and tomes weren't readily available for the taking out in the open. They'd have to really look for them. And, after fighting off the random daemon here and there on the way down, Talcott had nearly forgotten why they were there in the first place.

Ignis realized how overwhelming the task at hand must be for someone like Talcott, still so unaccustomed to assignments of this magnitude, so he rested a reassuring gloved hand on his shoulder. It was then that Ignis realized just how much the boy had grown and how much he missed out on because of his injury.

Talcott's shoulder was no longer bony and tiny under his hand, but broad and muscular. Come to think of it, he'd never realized how much the young boy had grown in height as he was now almost as tall as he was.

How much had Ignis missed out on since Altissia? Over the years, he'd learned to accept that he'd never read, write, or drive again and he adjusted his fighting and cooking skills to adapt to life without sight. But little things like not being able to see this kid grow up, missing out on the beautiful spectacle of light and water above them, and being unable to help with this research all threatened to bring Ignis back into that dark and twisted place that he fought so long to get out of.

Aranea's voice chastised him in his head, telling him to buck up and think of how far he'd come, instead of wallowing over what he was missing out on. Then she'd grumble and complain about how dreary and depressing everything was, how lucky he should feel that he was missing it. She said stuff like that as a joke and sometimes they'd both laugh about it, but deep down there was truth to it.

This was no time to throw a pity party or to fall into another state of depression. He shook his head and forced a smile, knowing they were here for a reason. "Shall we proceed? We have a lot of ground to cover, and, unfortunately, not enough time to cover it in."

Talcott nodded eagerly, his eyes wide and sparkling with excitement. "Oh, yes sir! Where should we begin?" He took a step or two away, shielding his eyes from the strange light source above them. "I'm . . . not sure there's anything here in this room. It just looks like a bunch of crumbled marble columns and," he kicked at the ground under them, "a lot of sand."

Ignis brought a finger to his chin in thought. He closed his eye, reaching into the crevasses of his memories of the dungeon for something—anything—to help them figure out where to begin. He didn't remember there being anything of noticeable interest, but maybe there was another area of the dungeon that they'd not uncovered on their last visit.

After all, the dungeon was massive, not to mention hundreds of years old.

It was worth a shot to look around. "Talcott, by any chance, do you happen to see another room or alcove of some sort that could possibly lead elsewhere? Something else that would house what it is we're looking for?"

On his request, he felt Talcott slip away, his footsteps tracing the perimeter of the grand chamber. He would take a few steps, crunching over sand and rocks, and then stop. Take a few more paces, and then the sound of his hands feeling the walls could be heard. This went on for several minutes, as Ignis understood that pacing the outer area of the room was no small feat. Still, the man was growing impatient and he unintentionally sighed just soft enough as to not alert the teenager of his exasperation. It wasn't like him to get this antsy, but Ignis was just too eager to let the real fun begin—though he would use that term loosely.

He didn't have to wait much longer for Talcott to make a discovery as he heard a jubilant cheer. "Sir! I found something! A hole in the wall that we can crawl through!" There was a click of a handheld flashlight, brought along on the off chance that the lights on their clothing weren't enough, and Talcott laughed. "You won't believe what I'm seeing!"

With his cane, Ignis— swift, but still careful—approached Talcott from behind and stopped just short of where he was standing. He sensed that Talcott had turned around to face him when felt the light of his flashlight flare across his face. Ignis flinched. It was still an odd sensation to feel and make out some sources of light, one that he would never get used to. "What is it?" Ignis asked, taking a few steps back.

"I think it's better if I show you." The grin on Talcott's face could be heard by the tone of his voice. Willingly, Ignis allowed himself to be pulled from the massive atrium into the smaller room, forced to duck under the tiny, crumbling archway of the hole in the wall. The room they staggered into was just tall enough that both men could comfortably stand up, but Talcott warned him that there was hardly any ceiling room above them beyond that. Everything smelled damp and there was a slight chill here that wasn't in the foyer they were just in. Somewhere in the corner, a dripping noise persisted. The room just _felt_ claustrophobic and dark.

Ignis waited for Talcott to explain what it was that he found so fascinating, but Talcott stalked the short distance to the other side of the room. The burn of irritation bubbled in Ignis' chest and he gripped his cane a little too tight. "I appreciate the discovery of this space, Talcott, but what is it that you're dying to show me? As I mentioned beforehand, we are running on a limited amount of time and resources."

Talcott laughed again, the same joyful laugh he'd expressed upon finding the new chamber, and knelt down. The sound of the crack of a book being opened for the first time in decades—no, _centuries_ —echoed in the space. He stood back up and placed the book in Ignis' free hand. "I've never seen so many old books and scrolls in my life. The entire room has stacks of old texts for us to go through! I . . . sir, I don't know how we'll be able to go through all of them. There has to be hundreds!"

Ignis held the weighty hardcover in his hand while placing his cane against the wall behind him. With his other hand free, he traced his fingers over the imprinted title on the cover. With one eyebrow raised, he looked in Talcott's direction with immense skepticism. "Yes, but how many are relevant to our objective? Call me a cynic, but it would be far too easy for our answers to be at our disposal in one measly room within one dungeon, especially when there are plenty of other Royal Tombs and dungeons for us to get through, if necessary."

Talcott's posture deflated at this and he brought his flashlight up to browse the titles of the other manuscripts. Encyclopedias on the history of Solheim, books on science and math, volumes and volumes of pictures and sheet music—everything. There was literally a book on any subject anyone could think of. However, Ignis was right; information on historical personas and standing figureheads were scarce.

Talcott grabbed another book and opened it, the cover and spine missing a title or something to distinguish it. Black and white photos dotted pages here and there with pictures of cartoonish people looking deathly ill—some with black markings all over their skin, some without. As Talcott tried to read the captions of the pictures and the large wall of text around the photos, he paused.

"This is weird," he murmured, his eyebrows furrowing. "I can kind of understand what this is saying, but it's a different language. I mean, it's definitely English, but it's mixed with something else. I can't explain it. I don't know . . . like this sentence . . ." Talcott launched into reading a paragraph, alternating between broken English and whatever the other language was. At first, Ignis was unable to place the syntax, the wording and verbiage unclear. Yet, the more Talcott muscled through the paragraph, the more the words started to come together in Ignis' mind.

"Old Lucian," Ignis stated with conviction at the end of Talcott's reading. The teenage tilted his head and Ignis motioned with one hand toward the book, explaining further. "As a requirement to serve the royal family, we had to learn the evolution of the language. Long days and even longer nights meant excelling in the fluency of various languages; most importantly, Old Lucian. Unfortunately for us, it has been a long while since I've had to read or translate any texts from Old Lucian to modern English, but I'd be hard pressed to believe that I've been unable to retain something like that." He sighed and pushed his tinted glasses up higher on his nose with a middle and pointer finger, sitting down on the ground with his back against the wall. "How about we get comfortable and begin?"

Talcott concurred and they relaxed into their respective corners, not much legroom between them in the small room. The minutes turned to hours—several long and drawn out hours—as Talcott would, hesitantly, read off important passages to Ignis who would, in turn, translate it back to Talcott. Then, Talcott would hastily write all sorts of notes and annotations in a notebook they'd brought with them, pausing only to shake the ever-persistent cramps from his hand as he tried to keep up with Ignis. Once, Talcott made a joke about bringing a typewriter or laptop next time and Ignis snickered at the comment.

If only life were that easy anymore.

After quite a few pages of notes had been taken, Ignis leaned back and closed his eye in thought. Talcott reread what they had so far, not having paid attention to any of what he'd been writing down until this moment. He knew the text they were translating had mostly to do with the Starscourge, but no mention of any Niflheim Chancellors or any positions within the regime. Still, the mention and detailed description of the Scourge was rather interesting, so they kept on with it.

Talcott massaged the sharp pain of the cramp from his hand. He was having fun with the Royal Advisor, but he'd be lying if he said it was as easy as he thought it would be. Working alongside Ignis was no cakewalk, but Talcott continued to grin and bear it. "So let me get this straight; from what we have so far, it appears that the Scourge is what is causing the disappearance of Eos' population."

"Right," Ignis affirmed. "With the death of the Oracle, and no one to save those afflicted with the Scourge, we now have an increase in daemons to fight due to the human population turning into said daemons."

"Huh. And here I thought that daemons were just ugly, vicious animals," Talcott snorted, flipping a page and then another. He squinted at his messy handwriting, barely legible from the speed at which he wrote, "And when you guys take out a daemon . . ."

"It means more photosynthetic organisms released into the air and darker nights for the foreseeable future," Ignis finished, leaning his head back against the cold stone wall behind him. He felt a tightness grip his chest as he came to this conclusion, but was it really all that surprising? Cor did say that the Prophecy spoke of light returning upon the Chosen King's return, but when would that be? How much longer would they all remain in total darkness?

"I still can't believe that it was Ifrit that brought forth the Scourge and started the Great War of Old. It's all so . . . so . . ."

"Damning?" Ignis pitched in almost sarcastically.

Talcott let out a small laugh at that, nodding as he did. "For lack of better words, I guess so. And sad? I mean, to be so full of hatred that you want to end all of mankind? What a miserable existence."

"Indeed. At least we have the Astral, Bahamut, and the rest of the Six to thank for their generosity in giving us the Crystal. Though, it has done little to help us as of late," the advisor ruminated, still trying to understand the Starscourge and how that affected the world as a whole. Up until now, Ignis had a feeling—a hunch—that the plague had something to do with the darkness, but he never imagined it would lead to a darkness of this magnitude. It was all starting to make sense: the death of Lady Lunafreya, the lengthening of nights, the dwindling population (but he previously attributed that to the Survival of the Fittest theory, not the Scourge). He tilted his head and faced Talcott's general vicinity. "What else have we to go over in that text?"

The teenager hummed a tune under his breath as he flipped back and forth from his notes to the texts, to a random parchment of paper found inside one of the other texts. "Nothing really. Just the same stuff we've been rehashing for the last several hours now. Daemons, Starscourge, blah, blah, blah. Oh, wait," he lingered on a page, his finger just under a particular passage. "Here's something we missed, though I don't know how. Ha, we must be more tired than we realize. Anyway! There's something about a guy . . . I think, if I'm reading it right, it's some guy with the last name Izunia— "

It all happened so fast. Suddenly, Ignis was scrambling forward, not allowing Talcott to finish his sentence or what it was that he found. Ignis was barely able to stop himself from grabbing the text from Talcott's hand, his lack of sight an afterthought in that moment. Instead, he frantically pointed. "Who? Is there a first name? What does it say about Izunia?"

Talcott stuttered over his words, his heart racing at the commotion that Ignis was causing. This was an important name, it seemed. He didn't want to say or do anything to disappoint the older man, but he was completely flustered and had lost his place in the book. When he recovered where he left off, his eyes quickly scanned over the paragraphs to gain more insight into this man. "Err . . . ahhh . . . looks like the first name was Proditious. He was a king long ago, maybe second after the original Chosen King? It says that Proditious was—Hey!"

Ignis stood up, the urge to move far too great for him to remain seated. He paced back and forth, eight or nine steps from one wall to the next, depending on how big his stride was. Talcott pulled some of the papers and books from Ignis' reckless path as he watched with worry and confusion, unsure of where this outburst came from.

Yes, the name Izunia _sounded_ familiar to him. Talcott knew the name was important, but it had been so long since he'd been in school that historical figures and political heads were nothing more than distant and faded people to him—nearly imaginary. It sounded awful, but when the world is on the edge of collapse, sometimes survival overtook the need for education.

Luckily, Ignis had a hunch that Talcott was struggling to keep up and he stopped, mid-pacing, to turn his head down to where he assumed the teen was sitting. "The Niflheim Chancellor's last name was—is—Izunia. An unusual last name, Izunia, wouldn't you say?"

"No . . . I . . . I guess not. Not a name I hear often," Talcott agreed with a hesitant nod.

"Not a name you hear, _ever_. Please, if you would, read to me what it says about this 'Proditious Izunia' gentleman," he requested. "Maybe there's a relation to his name and Ardyn's name?"

More pages were flipped and Talcott found the passage about Proditious Izunia. "Ok . . . well . . . heh, luckily this is more in a language I can understand. Alright, let's see what it says. Hmmm . . . ok, so Proditious was a ruling king after the Starscourge was brought about. Something here about not being the original Chosen King . . . " He faded off and scowled. "Dammit, I can't make this out."

Ignis took a spot beside Talcott, leaning over the texts, more because doing so felt right as opposed to actually seeing or reading any of it. "Take your time. Just sound out the words and I'll translate like we've been doing."

"No, that's not it," Talcott said, pursing his lips. Ignis was curious at the point, wondering what else it could be that had Talcott in such a tizzy. The teen brought the book closer to his face and then he grunted. He grabbed another book behind him and a slow franticness overtook his actions. "No, no, no! This . . . Sir, the pages after this for the Izunia lineage are gone. There's nothing here! The words on this page are scratched out and after that, entire pages are missing."

"What do you mean?" Ignis balked. "There must be _something_ there. We've been here for hours and you said the room is full of texts and scrolls."

Talcott rushed to his feet, running a single finger along the stacked books while reading the titles on the spines. If there were no titles, he'd pull the book out and quickly scan the pages to see if there was anything relating to what they needed. It seemed that their luck had run out. The books left in the room were about everything else _except_ the Izunia lineage. Not one mention of Ardyn or any variation of Ardyn, Izunia, or the new Proditious Izunia. Nothing.

"I'm . . . I'm sorry. It's obvious that those passages were tampered with. If there _is_ anything else, it's not here for us to see. Maybe the other dungeons have more for us?"

Even though Talcott was trying his hardest to remain optimistic, Ignis still felt let down. Of course, he hadn't expected to stumble on anything so soon into their trip, and the fact that they found anything at all was remarkable. Still, knowing they were so close to learning more about the Izunia surname and, yet, still so far left a bad taste in Ignis' mouth. He couldn't help but let the disappointment wash over him, the aggravation evident on his face.

"Let's take some of these books back with us. Who knows? Maybe with a good night's sleep, we can find something worthwhile that we're missing?" Talcott suggested, gathering the books that held the most information for them. They were more than a handful, but he tried to juggle them carefully, not wanting to ask Ignis for help, but Ignis was incredibly sharp and perceptive. He held a hand out and motioned for Talcott to hand over at least one or two of the tomes, to which Talcott finally relented.

Whether it was from lack of sleep lately, the intense studying of the books and information, or a combination of the two, both men were worn out and ready to go home. It had been such a long couple of days that everything seemed to blur together into one endless chain of events.

It felt like it took longer to leave the dungeon than it did to get down to the bottom. Going up was a lot harder for Ignis as he had to blindly navigate up the stairs with his hands full of heavy books and random scrolls, but he was proud of the fact that he wasn't tripping or falling over anything. If Talcott stayed just a few steps ahead, he could hone in on the sounds of his footfalls and follow close behind.

Once out and across the murky grove, through the shin-deep waters, they breathed a sigh of relief when they realized that no daemons decided to roam the area. As they approached the truck, parked on a dirt path just above the grove, Talcott's phone vibrated angrily in his pocket. "Hmmm, reception must have been bad in the dungeon," he mused, pulling the phone from his pocket while Ignis crossed around the front of the truck to the passenger side door. He pulled himself up into the seat, slamming the door and buckling his seatbelt. However, Talcott could be heard talking a short distance away—no doubt with the text message sender.

Ignis tried to eavesdrop but was unable to catch anything meaningful. He was able to discern that, whatever the topic was, it seemed incredibly urgent. Patiently, he sat with his hands in his lap, eye faced forward. Then, with urgency, Talcott threw his door open and jumped in the truck, fumbling to get the keys into the ignition. The engine roared as he finally managed to get the key turned, spinning the wheel as tight to the right as he could and speeding off down the road.

The inertia forced Ignis back into his seat, his knuckles white as he gripped the door handle. "Talcott! What on Eos has gotten into you?" A hard left and Ignis was hurled into the window. He rubbed his temple where it had made contact with the window, a bruise sure to form in the coming hours.

"We have to get back to Lestallum right now."

"Yes, I gathered as much. That doesn't explain why we—"

"Prompto has been trying all day to get a hold of me," Talcott said, the truck careening down the road, the daemons a blur as they passed. "Aranea, Iris, and the rest of the team are back."

Ignis' ears perked up and he whipped his head so he was facing Talcott. "Something happened," he inferred, their reckless speed and sharp turns to get home a major giveaway.

Talcott nodded, but Ignis didn't know. "Someone got hurt, but Prompto didn't get to tell me who. I told him we'd be home right away."

 _No, no, no,_ Ignis repeated in his mind. His stomach went ice cold and his heart fell somewhere around his feet. Talcott kept rambling, no doubt to keep the nerves at bay, but Ignis heard none of it. Everything sounded fuzzy and distant and he felt like he'd left his body. It hurt to breathe.

Someone was hurt.

Someone was hurt and Talcott was racing to get back to Lestallum because it wasn't some superficial injury. It was serious.

It was the longest trip of Ignis' entire life.

_Gods, please let Aranea be ok._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello!!! What a long and crazy business trip, but I'm back! Thank you everyone who reached out to me, wishing me well, and everything in between. I'm so happy to be home. Of course, I came back with a gross head cold and I'm running on such little sleep soooo I really and truly apologize for the quality of this chapter. It sets up for my next chapter which is the one that I've been DYING to get to since I started this fic. In fact, I had the next chapter as a one-shot idea before deciding to build around it. So yay!
> 
> Again, I'm so sorry for the quality of this chapter. I do have plans to eventually go back and fix quite a bit of this fic, and this chapter will be one of the things I do eventually go back to fix.
> 
> So yes! Thank you thank you thank you! I promise a MUCH better chapter this upcoming week!! :) Let's just blame this on lack of sleep, being sick, and 10 to 12 hour work days for the last 9 days in a row.


	14. Dancing in the Moonlight

**Water Under the Bridge  
Dancing in the Moonlight**

Talcott screeched to a halt, the tail end of the truck hanging out of the designated parking spot. Neither of the men really cared how they were parked, though. There were more pressing issues at hand.

Ignis threw the door open and stumbled out, getting about halfway around the back end of the vehicle before Talcott asked what they should do with the books.

"Leave them!" Ignis responded, waving a hand over his shoulder and signaling for Talcott to follow. Both men raced through the streets, Ignis having memorized the city layout by now. On the way, he almost tripped over a decrepit pallet, but Talcott pulled him back up by the collar of his shirt.

The advisor's heart was pounding in his ears and he was shocked that no one else could hear it. A million scenarios ran through his head, each one more morbid than the last. As they approached the Levelle, screams and yells could be heard from outside.

"A little help here?!" Prompto shrieked as the two men came into the Levelle's lobby.

Ignis heard Talcott gasp.

Gladio, red-faced and teeth ground together, had Aranea pinned against the wall in the lobby as he yelled obscenities in her face. Prompto pulled desperately at Gladio's arm and Talcott, now realizing what was happening, ran in and tried to de-escalate the situation.

"You good for nothing wench! How could you? How could you put her in harm's way?! What sort of Commodore are you? Do you have _any_ idea what the fuck you did?" Gladio spat, squeezing Aranea's arms a little tighter. She was scratched and bruised from whatever turmoil her and her team had been through, but at least she was relatively, physically, alright. Though her facial expression conveyed little emotion, her eyes told a different story—one of regret, sadness, and indifference. She stayed limp in his grasp, head tilted back against the wall.

"Come on! Get off of her, Gladio!"

Gladio threw Prompto away from him, keeping one hand on a vapid Aranea. It was clear she wasn't going anywhere, but Gladio was taking no chances. "Prompto, stay the fuck out of this!"

Ignis took a step forward, his shoes clicking on the linoleum flooring. "Gladio, what is the meaning of this?"

As if his voice was the voice of reason, Gladio snapped his head up and looked back at his friend, but the rage still remained. It almost seemed like he was close to tears, eyes glazed over. "Ignis, this is _none_ of your business!"

"Well, if it has anything to do with my friends, I have intentions of _making_ it my business." Another cautious step. "Release Aranea, please."

Gladio released Aranea from against the wall, stalking over toward Ignis, forcing Prompto and Talcott to the side. "Alright, then. You want to make this shit your business? Well, your _girlfriend_ —," he began, spitting the word out with malice and sarcasm, "—royally fucked up her mission. They were ambushed by a few Nagaranis and, instead of retreating with everyone to safety, she decided to put everyone in harm's way by heading into battle. Because of her, we lost a hunter, Wedge had to be cured from stone, and Iris is at the medical center fighting for her goddamn life."

Aranea crossed her arms defensively. "I did what I had to— "

"Hey! You shut the fuck up because you _know_ you were only thinking about yourself!" Gladio roared, Aranea's voice lighting a fire inside him again. He turned back and reached for her before she moved out of his way, Prompto and Talcott scrambling to seize him. Instead, it was Ignis who grabbed the large man by the forearm, yanking him back while Talcott and Prompto moved to stand between Gladio and Aranea.

Gladio looked down at Ignis with surprise in his eyes, but the surprise faded into resentment as he interpreted Ignis' stopping him as siding with the Commodore. "What the fuck, Ignis? You have one stupid wet dream about her and now all of a sudden you take her side over your best friends? That's just a little fucked up, don't you think?"

"Gladiolus Amicitia, that's enough," Ignis commanded, stepping around in front of him with one hand pressed against his friend's chest in an effort to restrain him. "Understandably, you're irrational and you're not thinking straight. Please, I'm asking you, stop this instant and take a breather before you say something you really regret."

"What are you, my father? Back the fuck off, Iggy, and let _me_ handle this." The muscles in Gladio's jawline were tense and moved as he clenched his teeth, seething. His hands were balled by his side and he engaged in a type of stare down with the advisor. Ignis refused to let go, his hand firm against the man's muscular chest. Gladio clicked his tongue and pointed a finger in Aranea's direction, just over Ignis' shoulder. "Whatever, then. Just get that _fucking bitch_ out of my face."

Something inside Ignis snapped. He could tolerate a lot from Gladio and he had let him get away with saying many things over the years, but this—the outright disrespect toward Aranea—he couldn't handle. With his teeth bared, in one swift move, he brought his fist back and launched forward, landing a clean hit across Gladio's jaw. The punch resounded throughout the lobby, Prompto and Aranea yelling as they jolted forward to pull the two apart. Ignis willingly stepped back with Aranea at his side, inhaling through his teeth as he shook his hand to rid the pain.

Gladio, on the other hand, was cursing up a storm, holding his jaw with one hand as he pointed at Ignis with the other. "What the fuck was that for?!" he demanded, his eyes narrowed while Prompto and Talcott each kept a hand on Gladio's broad shoulders.

"Let's go." Aranea began to pull at Ignis' arm eagerly, forcing him to follow her up the stairs. From below, Gladio was calling Ignis every vulgar name in the book, but Ignis ignored each one as he trailed behind Aranea, following her footsteps to the end of the hall all the way to her room. At her door, she fumbled with her key, flustered, trying a couple of times before finally getting it right, opening the door with a huff.

They clamored inside, escaping the turmoil to vague silence within the room. Aranea slammed the door behind her and screamed at the top of her lungs in frustration, hitting the wall with the palm of her hand once, twice, several more times. Ignis stood nearby, both unsure of what to do to calm Aranea down and extremely unaccustomed to her room to move about freely—much like he could in his own room.

She stopped hitting the wall long enough to catch her breath, letting her forehead rest against the door. Once Aranea composed herself with several deep breaths, she wordlessly skimmed passed Ignis and continued over to the small cupboard in the corner of the room, pulling out a bottle of red wine and, next to it, two cups. She held them up triumphantly. "Thought I'd save this one for a special occasion, but I think we could use the buzz right about now. Care to join me?" she asked, taking a seat in a small chair nearby.

Ignis, still standing where he was when he first came in, slowly shuffled about to the other chair just opposite of the one that Aranea was sitting in. While absentmindedly rubbing the hand that he assaulted Gladio's jaw with, he took a seat and gave a soft smile. "I suppose I could use a glass of something to take the edge off after punching my best friend in the face. Mind if I ask what it is we're having?"

With a corkscrew that she pulled from a nearby drawer, Aranea pulled the cork off the bottle with a succinct 'pop', pouring into one of the cups. "A bottle of red wine I found in an abandoned restaurant when I was in Altissia. I snagged a couple and haven't found the right time to break into them. They looked to be high-end wines, but I usually stick with the cheap shit so I'm not sure if it'll be good or not. Does it really matter at this point, though?"

Aranea nudged Ignis' shoulder with the nearly full cup of wine and he took it gingerly, his hand still sore. He tried to will the pain away, masking his face with a grim smile so Aranea wouldn't catch on. Holy shit, though, did it hurt like hell.

Aranea scrutinized him intently, eyes flickering from his face to his injured hand—all because Gladio had called her a 'fucking bitch'. She poured herself a large amount of wine and took a gulp, thankful for the buzz that would surely come over her soon. When she saw Ignis wince again, she motioned to his knuckles. "Let me get you some ice for that."

He rejected the offer. Or tried to. With Aranea, it was always fruitless. She got her way when he denied her offer to find him new glasses, she won the battle when she fed him in the kitchen, and she would surely win this as well. "Oh, that's quite alright. I'll be—"

True to form, Aranea ignored his protests, jumping to her feet from her chair. Cup in hand, she grabbed an old ratty t-shirt from a drawer and knelt in front of the tiny refrigerator, scooping a handful of ice from the built-in freezer into the cloth and twisting it in such a way that inhibited the ice from falling out. When she came back to Ignis, she placed her cup to the side and reached for his injured hand, kneeling before him.

"Do you mind?" she asked quietly, seeking his permission before removing his silver glove, placing the makeshift ice pack on his bare knuckles. At first, Ignis hissed and tried to pull away, but Aranea held his hand tighter and eventually he relaxed, allowing her to take care of him, if just for now.

He felt her fingers of the hand not holding the ice trace lines under his palm and he realized how starved he was for touch and physicality. It felt heavenly to have his hand in hers and he bit back a low moan while she remained gentle with him. It almost made the pain worthwhile.

Almost.

He was brought back to reality when Aranea started to laugh in that way that showed she was bringing up something uncomfortable and possibly embarrassing. "I couldn't help but pick up on this 'wet dream' you apparently had about me. Want to tell me what that's all about?"

Ignis scowled. "Now's not the time, Aranea."

She was surprised at his retort, finding herself sinking lower onto her knees sheepishly. "Oh. Sorry. I was . . . never mind."

As Ignis took another sip of his wine, letting Aranea tend to his hand in forced silence, he heard her sigh. "For real, though, I don't know how you can be friends with such a brute." When she looked up to see Ignis' vacant stare upon her, she shrugged. "Gladio can be a real dick sometimes. You two don't seem like the type to really get along. You're so prim and proper, and he's the quintessential douchebag. I don't understand how you two have the friendship that you do, especially with the prince out of the picture right now. What's still holding you two together?"

Ignis flexed his hand in hers and he mulled her words over while taking another drink. He felt Aranea watching him, waiting for a response. Sure, Noctis was the glue that bonded Prompto, Gladio, and Ignis together, but their friendship was more than that. It always had been—especially his friendship with Gladio.

Swirling the wine in his cup, Ignis smiled as memories flittered through his mind. "Do you know how I came to be Noctis' royal minder?" he started.

Aranea tilted her head and Ignis pulled away, nodding for her to take the ice away if she desired. She stood and walked to the bathroom, placing the shirt with the ice in the sink. She came back, grabbing her own cup of wine before sitting down.

The room was dimly lit, with only one lamp on in the corner by Iris' empty bed. Despite the lack of light, it wasn't hard for Aranea to make out Ignis' subtle facial expressions. She chugged a good portion of her drink, past the halfway point in her cup, and Ignis removed his glasses from his face, feeling around and placing them on the nearby table. Aranea couldn't help the smile that appeared on her face as she studied his handsome features, despite the garish scars, taking another drink to distract herself from staring too long.

"Well? You were saying?" she prompted, wondering what being a Royal Advisor had to do with being friends with Gladiolus Amicitia.

"Ah, yes," he said. "Where to begin . . . well, I was about four when I was pulled from my classroom one day. I was informed that, as the brightest student in the academy, I would no longer be attending my school. In fact, I was to report to the school within the Citadel walls the following week. Of course, at that age, that sounds like an exciting prospect, does it not? Moving to the Citadel? It's practically a fairy tale.

"I remember rushing home, bursting through the door and feeling rather confused when I happened upon my mother in tears with my father by her side. I didn't know it at the time, but they had agreed to relinquish custody in order for me to work alongside the Royal Family. My Uncle—my father's brother—would be there to see that I thrived and flourished, but I don't imagine that made it easy for my parents to let go.

"As it were, that weekend I packed what little I owned and my parents dropped me off at the bottom of the Citadel stairway. I just assumed they'd pick me back up come Monday morning and I'd be back to my regular routine soon enough. But Monday came, then Tuesday, then the rest of the week and I was still at the Citadel. I think, only then did it set in for me that this was my new home and my parents weren't coming back for me." His voice cracked but Ignis quickly recovered by drinking more wine. "Apologies, I don't believe I've ever told anyone my life story, but do feel free to stop me if you find my narrative dull."

Aranea wanted to say something—some words of comfort, maybe—but Ignis continued. "Those first years were grueling, arduous, downright miserable. When I wasn't studying, I was learning to fight. When I wasn't fighting, I was teaching myself other subjects. My only saving grace was finding great comfort in cooking, watching my Uncle as he moved about the kitchen when he had a free moment. Now, all of this came in between the times that I looked after the Prince. Here I was, scarcely independent myself, and I was tasked with taking care of one of the most important children in all of Eos. It was daunting, to say the least."

By this point, both of their glasses were almost empty, so Aranea took the liberty of refilling them to the brim. "Sure, I managed to stay busy most of my days, but it was still so . . ." he paused, searching for the right word as the delicate buzz of the wine started to settle in, making it only a little more difficult to think straight. " . . . life back then was . . . . it was lonely and it hurt."

Aranea nodded, understanding his words all too well. After all, she'd lived the solitary life of a lone wolf for far too long. "I can imagine," she sympathized.

"Naturally, His Highness was a great friend to me, but we were never really _friends_ in the greater sense of the word until much later. But I did meet someone who was going through a lot of what I was going through."

"Gladio?" Aranea guessed.

Ignis hummed as he brought his cup to his lips, allowing the wine to sit on his tongue for a moment before he swallowed. "At first, we were sparring partners and nothing more. I thought he was the schoolyard tyrant and he assumed I was the teacher's pet—though, let's face it, I probably was," he joked, earning a giggle from Aranea. "But, the more we trained together, the more we got to know each other. He invited me to his house on more than one occasion and I learned that he was more than just the boorish boy that I took him for. At the end of the day, he was there for me, no questions asked. I think I really needed that, especially when I had no one else to turn to."

When Aranea said nothing, Ignis leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, cup between both hands. "Gladio means well. Yes, he lacks the capacity to express his anger in healthy ways, but his heart is still pure. When he feels cornered or scared, he begins to lash out. I say this, not to make excuses for his behavior downstairs, but for you to understand that . . ." He shook his head, "he loves his sister dearly. Overly so, if that is even possible. I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive his . . . offensive outburst, though I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."

Aranea wasn't sure what to think as Ignis finished his monologue. As he took another drink, she crossed her legs and frowned. "I mean, he has every right to be angry with me," she surprisingly relented, noticing how Ignis threw a curious glance her way. She tilted her head back, her cheeks heated as shame and blame waged a war inside of her. No, she didn't hate Gladio for his reaction, but she did hate herself.

"I trust that you reacted the way you've been taught to. I don't believe you would be so careless with other lives at stake. You're a stronger person than that," Ignis comforted, his accent stronger now that he was a few drinks in.

"No, but I did put Iris in danger by going into battle against those damn daemons instead of falling back like we should have. I don't know what I was thinking and now she's lying in bed and it's all my fault."

Ignis listened as she chugged her drink, figuring she was doing so to keep the horrific thoughts away instead of appreciating the taste of the wine. "Aranea . . ."

She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "She'll be ok, right? She has to be."

For once, Ignis didn't know how to answer and he listened as she finished off her cup, slamming it on the table before them. She stood up, mentioning something about opening one more bottle for the both of them and Ignis smiled his consent. Another 'pop' of the cork, the liquid flowing into her cup, and Aranea flopped back into her chair with a soft 'thump'.

Silence.

More silence.

"So . . ." Aranea leaned back, breaking the quiet. "Royal Advisor your entire life."

Ignis noted the subject change and figured, at this point, it was best. What good would it do to linger on Iris' condition right now? So, Ignis went along with it, happy to discuss whatever Aranea wanted to talk about. "Indeed."

"Does that mean you had to go to all of those fancy dinner parties and royal meetings?" she asked, the cynicism practically dripping from her lips.

Ignis disregarded the mocking tone and answered honestly. "When I wasn't tending to His Highness' needs, certainly."

"Didn't that get boring? Always having to get dressed up, parade around, pretending like you gave a fuck about what anyone said to you?"

Ignis rolled his eye at her lack of couth, moving one arm to rest on the back of his chair while he lazily sipped the rest of his wine, only to have his glass refilled once more by Aranea. "You're asking me these questions but, as a ranking official, were you not made to attend any events or galas? No dances?" Ignis questioned with a motion of his hand. By now, the wine had surely taken hold and he was feeling loose and free.

Aranea giggled at the slightly intoxicated look on Ignis' face, eye half closed and a bashful smirk adorning his lips. "Nah, I usually managed to worm my way out of them. Not my thing. Even if I did have to go, I'd stay close to the bar or something. I never was great at the dancing bullshit—never really learned how."

"Ah, I see," Ignis said. "My attendance was mandatory, so it was essential I at least mastered the minimum of what it took to ballroom dance."

"Let me guess—you probably mastered the minimum, and then some?" Aranea teased, prodding him in the arm with a finger. "What _didn't_ you master? Fencing? Chess? _Piano lessons_?"

Ignis raised an eyebrow and hid a smile in his cup while Aranea leaned back in her chair, groaning aloud. "Oh, of _course_ , you would be a pianist! Of course!"

"Darling, have you not yet learned?" Ignis smirked, sipping the last bit of his wine and setting the cup to the side. "What so ever I choose to study, I make it my mission to excel at it." He fished his phone from his back pocket and handed it to Aranea. "If you could, please go to my music and click the fourth song down on the first playlist."

She took the phone skeptically, her face scrunched in perplexity. "I'm not going to find any dick pics on here, am I?"

Ignis frowned. "First of all, why would there be _any_ pictures—explicit or not—on my music application? Second of all, what sort of man do you take me for that I would have those sorts of photos on my phone?"

"Hey, you never know. I just didn't want any random surprises," she shrugged. "What do you want me to find this song for, anyway? Whatever it is."

As she searched through his phone to his music, pressing play on the fourth song on his playlist, she looked up to see his hand, still without his glove on, held out to hers as a boisterous waltz played from the speakers of the phone. "Because, my dear, I'm going to teach you how to dance."

She clenched the phone a little tighter, this time to her chest. "Oh, hell no. That's not happening. I already told you I don't dance."

"Come now, you wouldn't deny a blind man the chance to dance with a beautiful lady such as yourself, would you?"

"Pulling the 'blind' card? That's low, even for you," she scolded, placing the phone to the side.

"Let's just say it's my trump card. Now, are you going to let me stand here all night? Or will you allow me to lead you in a waltz?"

Still reserved, Aranea held back for a few moments before carefully placing her hand in his. Once standing, he guided her hand to his shoulder and held her other hand within his, pulling her a little closer with his hand in the small of her back. The tempo of the orchestral song picked up and Ignis took the lead, counting their steps out loud and stifling a snicker with every one of Aranea's missteps. There'd be a brief period of gracefulness and then Aranea would ruin it by stepping on Ignis' feet, pulling back too soon, or just something in between.

"This is absolutely hopeless!" she laughed, her fingers digging ever so slightly into the muscle of his shoulder as her feet clumsily knocked against his.

"Just relax," his voice soothed over the upbeat song. "Just follow what I do and you'll catch on soon enough. Stop looking down and look up at me."

She followed his instructions and kept her eyes fixed on his, not even bothering to question how he could tell that she was looking down. He had a keen sense of knowing what was going on around him without the ability to see it, so it was no surprise that he would know that Aranea wasn't looking, eyes forward, while in the midst of their waltz.

Her embarrassed giggling was contagious and Ignis found himself laughing out loud with her. Then, every time Ignis laughed, Aranea's heart thudded in her chest. It was a vicious circle between the two—nonstop giggling, fueled by each other and the copious amounts of red wine they indulged in.

Ignis was right; Aranea eventually found her rhythm and moved in time with him, allowing him to spin and dip her occasionally. He danced with grace and confidence and Aranea lost herself in his arms. But, soon enough, the song ended, fading into a slower, symphonic tune. Aranea started to pull away, assuming that their dance was done, but Ignis held her to him, smiling. "But . . . the song is over."

"I know," he said. "But maybe one more dance won't hurt."

They both stood, still holding each other, waiting for the other to make a move while the violins and cellos played their beautiful melody in the background. Finally relenting, Aranea leaned in, her head resting on Ignis' chest as they both swayed slowly to the song. In that moment, it was only the two of them and no one else in the world. Everything could fall around them and neither one would notice.

Rubbing small circles on her back, Ignis placed his cheek on the top of Aranea's head, closing his eye and savoring this moment. He tried to commit to memory how perfect her muscular, yet slender, frame fit into him. The way her hair, now longer than it had been in their younger years, cascaded down her back. He pictured how maybe the last several years had aged the Commodore and the image he conjured took his breath away.

She was everything he never knew he needed and he needed to tell her.

"You're beautiful," Ignis whispered.

Aranea smirked into his leopard-print shirt, breathing in the faint scent of his cologne. "How do you know? You can't even see me. For all you know, I could have grown to be super hideous or something."

He stopped their dance, shaking his head. "That's impossible."

For a moment, time stopped. Aranea dared to bring her head up, her breath catching in her throat as it looked like Ignis was making direct eye contact with her. He moved his hand from her back to her cheek and she closed her eyes, leaning into his palm. "What the hell are you doing to me, Specs?" she wondered aloud.

At first, he thought maybe she was upset or disappointed. That maybe he'd said or done something wrong. However, she didn't waver from his hand and he could feel her breath on his bare palm. "What do you mean?"

"You know exactly what I mean," she replied, tilting her head up to look at him again.

He didn't need his sight to know the look she was giving him. It was obvious by the way she was pressing against him while simultaneously rising slightly on her tiptoes. Maybe words weren't necessary. Using his hand on her cheek to guide him, he followed her lead, closing the gap between them, their lips brushing together in sweet ecstasy.

She tasted like the two bottles of wine they drank. Her lips were soft, much like he imagined time and time again throughout their years of knowing each other. Gods, it was perfect.

She was perfect.

When she pulled him down further to deepen the kiss, he unintentionally moaned into her mouth and he felt her smile in return. He was dizzy and drunk and on cloud nine and was almost sure that, at this point, it was due to the kiss and not the alcohol.

If this was what her kiss did to him, he never wanted to sober up.

It was short lived though as a knock at the door broke them apart.

"Shit," she hissed, jumping back as if she and Ignis had been caught in a compromising situation. "Who is it?"

"Uh . . . It's me. Talcott. Is . . . um . . is Ignis . . . I mean, Mr. Scientia . . . "

Ignis felt Aranea's warmth fade away as she stormed to the door, very upset. She yanked the door open and leaned against the frame, perturbed. "Is this really that important?" he heard her mutter.

"Actually, kinda. Yeah."

Upon hearing this, Ignis carefully navigated around Aranea's room to the door, gently pulling her aside so he could greet Talcott. "Evening, Talcott. What's wrong?"

Talcott shuffled something in his hands. Papers of some sort. "Well, after everything died down and we calmed Gladio, I went back to the truck to grab our books and our things. I found something rather peculiar. Those pages that were missing? Well, not all of them, but a couple of them were on top of the books when I opened the door. Almost like someone had put them there. Just right on top for me to find."

"You mean—"

"Yes, sir. These pages mention Costlemark Tower and make a few allusions to the Izunia legacy. It's as if someone _wants_ us to keep looking and researching."

Ignis felt Talcott pressing a few loose pages into his hands and his mind raced fervently. He nodded curtly at the teenager. "Thank you, Talcott. We can reconvene in the morning to talk more about this. For now, go get some rest."

"But, sir—"

Ignis held a hand up. "There's nothing more we can do right now. It's better if we look at this with fresh eyes come morning," he snorted and Talcott smirked as well. "Well, fresh eyes for you. I'll just pretend to look if that helps any."

Talcott stood up straighter, almost as if he were at attention. "Understood. Just tell me where to be tomorrow and I'll be there."

Before Talcott could turn to leave, Ignis stopped him. "Oh, one more thing. Has there been any word on Iris' condition? I realize not much time has passed, but maybe you've heard something?"

From behind, Ignis heard Aranea inhale nervously and Talcott nodded. "She's still critical, but the medics say with some time, rest, and a few more hi-elixirs, she'll make a full recovery. Cor's down there right now with Gladio, but she'll be ok."

Ignis chuckled from nervous relief. "Fantastic news. I appreciate the word," he thanked while Aranea sighed. Then, Ignis dismissed the teen away for the evening. "Goodnight, Talcott."

As Talcott raised a hand in parting before heading down the hall toward his shared room with the Marshal, Ignis closed the door and returned his attention to Aranea, papers still in his hand. He felt a chill in the air though that wasn't there before. Although he brought good news about Iris—mixed with some strange updates on their hunt for information regarding the Izunia lineage—Talcott had inadvertently ruined their moment.

In the dim room, Aranea leaned against the wall, both hands behind her. "You . . . you know, it's getting late, Ignis, and the wine is making me a little sleepy. Maybe you should go. I know you have a lot to go over, what with your research and all, and I don't want to be the one to keep you. But . . . um . . . thank you. For everything. For sitting with me, talking with me, and for the dance," Aranea whispered, moving around Ignis so that she could get one hand on the doorknob while she rested her head against the door.

Seeking to salvage whatever moment was interrupted, Ignis brought his hand to the back of Aranea's neck, but she was distant again. Cold. Scared. Ignoring her standoffishness, Ignis took a step closer and placed a kiss on her forehead before giving her a small, yet reassuring, smile. "It was my pleasure, Ms. Highwind. Have a good night."

With one more squeeze to the back of her neck, Ignis walked out of the room and into the bright hotel hallway. Reluctantly, Aranea closed the door behind him. She watched his shadow under the crack of the door as it stood a second or two longer, debating whether to leave or stay, before finally making the decision to walk away.

It was subtle, but both of them knew that tonight was the turning point in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Whoops! Late update tonight! Finally feeling a million billion times better after being super sick at the beginning of this week. Good news is I took off a few more days this week coming up so yay for long weekends! :)
> 
> So! How about that little kiss?! Ahhhhh!!! Don't worry, that's not the end of it. There will be more. We do have some angst coming up next chapter and then after that . . . ;) Well, who knows!
> 
> Not too much else to report this week, so I'm off to reply to everyone's comments and reviews and everything since I didn't have time to do that earlier in the week. Once again, you all are the absolute best. I love you more than you know! 
> 
> Also, have a safe and happy Memorial Day tomorrow!


	15. Speak of the Devil

**Water Under the Bridge  
Speak of the Devil**

Ignis stood under the showerhead, hands clasped behind his neck, as he clung to the kiss that he and Aranea shared. He vacillated between thinking 'it was a mistake' and 'best moment of his life'. Or, maybe he was overthinking it. That would make sense, considering he hadn't even been able to pull Aranea aside to properly discuss what the kiss meant, if it meant anything at all. Had she just felt so sorry for him that she figured allowing him a pity kiss would be sufficient payback for sticking up for her? Was it possible that she, too, had feelings for him that he hadn't picked up on until now?

Or maybe, just maybe, they'd let the wine lower their inhibitions that night and got caught up in the romanticism of the moment.

 _Typical_ , he thought bitterly as he let the water fall over him. He couldn't even enjoy what transpired between them because he was so caught up in the details. It was torture.

Pure, excruciating, emotional torture.

This all could easily be worked out if they could just talk to each other but, of course, their schedules had decided to clash this week— when Ignis was home, Aranea was gone and vice versa. Aranea was partnering with Cor more than usual to formulate new strategies on how to send out daemon hunters while the surviving populace of people dwindled over time due to sickness and death, while Ignis spent every waking moment either training alone or studying old tomes with Talcott.

Ignis could have let the hot water run over him for hours longer—it was a hotel, after all, and hot water was one of the few luxuries that those living in the Levelle were afforded—but he finally decided enough was enough, turning the shower off and pulling the curtain back while grabbing the towel off the nearby hook. Carefully, so as to not trip and fall, he stepped out of the tub and into the steamy bathroom, drying his hair with a towel before securing it around his slim waist.

Like a switch, his thoughts moved away from Aranea—if only for a short while. While he spent half his time reminiscing about their kiss, he spent the other half agonizing over the fact that he _still_ wasn't talking to Gladio. Not even so much as a 'fuck you' was exchanged between the two since Ignis punched him in the jaw in the lobby. Thank the Astrals that Gladio was also on a different schedule this week, or their living situation would have been a whole lot more awkward.

No, Ignis would not apologize for his reaction to the situation or for what he did. He didn't feel an ounce of remorse for having assaulted his friend, feeling deep in his heart that Gladio deserved it for once, no matter how distraught he was over his sister's injury. It didn't give Gladio the right to lash out the way he did That didn't stop him from worrying about his best friend, never having gone this long without speaking. At least before, even when they were busy, they still managed to get a quick update on each other's lives or _something._ It was somewhat painful that the silent treatment was ongoing between the two.

One afternoon in passing, Ignis asked Prompto how Gladio was doing and if he was alright. Prompto hemmed and hawed, desperate to avoid getting caught in the middle, but he finally told Ignis that Gladio was doing fine. Now that Iris was a little better, at least able to hold short conversations, Gladio relaxed a little. Having been constricted to within an inch of her life and attacked ruthlessly by one of the Nagaranis, it was a miracle at all that she was even alive. She was far from clear to be discharged and had an even longer road to go before she was ok to fight again, but she was alert and breathing on her own and doctors reiterated that she would eventually make a full recovery. That was more than enough for Gladio, who remained mostly at the medical center for the time being in between daemon hunting.

With a sigh, Ignis shook his head and went through his routine of brushing his teeth, combing his hair back, and opening the door to the main living space so he could find an outfit for the day. As he opened the door, a bit louder than he usually did, he heard a startled cry and a loud thump as the other person stumbled backward into the wall and Ignis jumped back in surprise.

"Shit, dude," Prompto gasped. "Warn a man, why don't you. I didn't know you were home this morning. I figured you would be out with Talcott or something."

Prompto must have just come in from another long few days of guard duty, standing against the wall by the front door. His eyes were wide and he had a hand on his chest in reaction to Ignis storming out of the bathroom.

Ignis recomposed himself and stood taller, ignoring how cold the room was when all he had on was a towel and nothing else. "I could say the same for you, always barging in here like some sort of wild animal. Perhaps you could learn a thing or two in the art of stealth," he huffed, walking to his own small closet and picking out his Crownsguard attire for the day.

"Yeah, yeah. Whatever. You should be used to it by now," Prompto declared, making no apologies for who he was. With a loud grumbling of his stomach, he laughed and continued past Ignis to the kitchen, ignoring the man as he, unabashedly, removed his towel and got dressed. It wasn't anything the roommates hadn't seen before in the years they'd known each other.

Raucously, Prompto shuffled through the pantry, the fridge, the freezer, and the cupboards looking for something to eat. When the first search didn't result in anything Prompto wanted, he lowered his expectations and looked again. "Anyway," he called out with his head stuck in the fridge, happening upon some leftover dinner that Ignis had placed neatly on the top shelf, "how's that Ardyn search goin' for you? Find anything good?"

"No," was all Ignis replied, shrugging his dress shirt on over his undershirt, covering up the numerous scars scattered all over his body, acquired throughout his life and during all the battles he'd fought.

Without bothering to heat up the food, Prompto grabbed a fork and shoveled the leftovers in his mouth gluttonously. The look that Ignis threw his way as he chomped and slurped didn't even faze him, only spurring him on to irritate the advisor more with his loud chewing. He was hungry and dammit if Ignis was going to guilt him into being polite right now.

"Dude, you really need to lighten up or something. You've been completely on edge lately. Are you ok?" Ignis remained quiet, focusing on buttoning his shirt correctly and getting it tucked into his slacks. Prompto finished his meal and threw the Tupperware and fork into the sink, shrugging off the ire glare from Ignis once more. "That's what I'm talking about. Can't even put something in the sink without you getting pissy."

"We don't throw dishes around, Prompto. We place them gently in the sink and clean up after ourselves," he griped, bending down over his nightstand and feeling around for his sunglasses to mask the facial scars.

"You know what you need? A nice, cold bottle of beer. Or a shot of whiskey. Or ten shots. I mean, if your mood is because of Gladio, I wouldn't sweat it. You know as well as I do that the big guy will come around. He always does," Prompto said with a slap to Ignis' back. When Ignis didn't respond, instead biting his lower lip in thought, Prompto tilted his head. "What? Not Gladio? Then what is it? Is it the research? Does Cor want you to head out on a mission?" When nothing grabbed Ignis' attention, Prompto exhaled and ran a hand through his hair. "If it's not Gladio, your research, Cor, then what else is it? I mean, the only thing left would have to be Ara—oh. Oh, shit. Is it Aranea?"

On her name, Ignis flinched and tensed under the sharpshooter's hand.

Bingo.

"Ahhh, we're getting somewhere. And the game of '20 Questions' continues! Did something happen? Is she ok?"

Ignis shrugged off Prompto's hand and returned to his closet, moving his hand along the inside wall where he kept his belts hung, avoiding the topic that this conversation was headed down. It was one thing for him to dwell on it alone, as he had, for hours and hours at a time. That didn't mean he wanted to talk about it.

Or, maybe he did. Prompto would know what to do.

With a deep breath as he found the belt he was looking for, Ignis frowned. "After everything that happened—with Gladio, I mean—Aranea and I . . . we shared a moment."

"You're gonna have to be a tad more specific than that. 'Sharing a moment' could mean anything. Did you talk? Hold hands?" Prompto's face lit up. "You finally had sex, didn't you?"

Halfway through with pulling his belt through his pant loops, Ignis stopped and glared at him. "No, we just kissed," he snapped as he brought his belt the rest of the way through and buckled it. "And, even if we did have intercourse, a gentleman never tells."

"Hey, dude, no need to get on your high-horse. I was just asking." He shoved his hands in his pockets, blowing a piece of hair out of his face. "But, hey! You kissed! That's awesome, man! You should be high on life right now. Why are you so bummed about it?"

Ignis shook his head, pushing his glasses up higher on his nose. "Because, during our kiss, Talcott came and unintentionally interrupted us. Right after that, her walls went right back up and she was guarded again. I don't know. I'm on the fence whether she truly has feelings for me. I want to believe she does, but this kiss . . . I'm confused."

Ignis heard Prompto flop onto Gladio's bed, chuckling. "She likes you. Aranea likes you a lot. Hell, I'd go so far as to say she loves you. We all see it and we've told you both to just go for it, but you continue to do this whole frustrating back-and-forth thing. What makes you think that, after your kiss, she _still_ wouldn't return your feelings?"

Ignis shrugged, regretting telling Prompto anything. Gods, he hated feeling like a silly schoolboy with a ridiculous crush. He heard the thud of Prompto's shoes hitting the floor as he kicked them off, getting even cozier on the bed. Ignis wrinkled his nose, knowing full well that Prompto needed to take a shower and was probably soiling Gladio's sheets with his sweat-drenched and grime-caked outfit. Before he could reprimand the man, Prompto interjected with, "Have you talked to her at all? Or, wait, lemme guess; she's been too busy and you guys are too stubborn to just pick up a phone or something."

Ignis scoffed at the idea of calling her. "This isn't something I wish to discuss over the phone, Prompto. You of all people should understand that."

"Sure, but If I know you, I'd say this—and that fight with Gladio—has been weighing on your mind non-stop, hm? It's probably all you can think about, even though you know you have nothing to worry about. She's busy, you're busy, but I guarantee she's been thinking of that kiss, too. If picking up the damn phone saves you the headache of worrying and wondering, I'd say it's worth it. But, you do you. If you'd rather wait and do it in person, that's on you. You're almost 32 years old. I think you're old enough to know what to do."

Ignis stood there in awkward silence, rolling his sleeves up to his elbows and frowning. He could just imagine the smug look that Prompto was giving him—corners of his lips turned up, eyes halfway closed as he regarded the advisor haughtily. Turning his nose up, Ignis grabbed his shoes and put them on, annoyed. "Talcott readied the vehicle with our supplies and he should be ready any minute now. We're headed down to Costlemark for a few days, so I'll see you when I get back."

"Alright, dude. Stay safe. I'll tell Aranea you said hi!"

Checking to make sure he had everything in his possession, he opened the room door and brought his blind stare over his shoulder to the younger man, still cuddled in Gladio's bed. "And, for Astrals' sake, take a shower and do your laundry. You're dirtying up perfectly clean sheets."

* * *

 

"What a waste of time," grumbled Talcott, shifting the vehicle into a lower gear as the road before them twisted and curved. Both him and Ignis were dismayed at the lack of information Costlemark Tower held. They overstayed their welcome, barely able to make it with the supplies they had left. Both agreed that maybe the information in the pages that were carelessly strewn in the car for them to find had been outdated and of no use. Or, maybe the pages were falsified. There was no other explanation. They literally came up empty handed.

They were no closer to finding anything else out about Ardyn Izunia, Proditious Izunia, or anything of the sort and it soured their moods. Reluctantly, they called the mission a wash and decided to return to Lestallum to pour over the texts they'd brought back from Steyliff.

Surely, they'd find _something_ else buried in the books and scrolls that they'd missed before. Or maybe their ambitions were far too high and there wasn't anything for them to find.

"We'll keep looking. I'm not ready to give in, and neither should you." Ignis rested his forehead against the glass of the window, closing his eye. "We mustn't lose faith."

The rest of the car ride was heavy with silence as both let their thoughts wander until they made it back to Lestallum. Talcott slowed to a stop at the gate and Ignis immediately sensed something was amiss by the low muttering under Talcott's breath. The teen honked the truck horn several times.

"No one is at the shack to open the gate for us. I don't think I've ever seen a station unmanned," Talcott pondered. He sighed with irritation, opening the truck door and dragging himself out. "Hello? Can someone let us in?"

Ignis stepped out of the truck as well, easing the door closed but not shutting it completely. He remained beside the vehicle, head tilted as Talcott waited for someone to come get them. He laced his fingers in the links of the gate while his mouth formed a grim line. "Strange, I don't see anyone. There's a pile of clothing, but," he snorted, "why would anyone decide to strip nude and run around Lestallum?"

"Perhaps the heat was more than that person could take?" Ignis suggested humorously. "It is a fair bit warmer today than it has been as of late. No surprise that someone would want to strip nude in this heat."

"You got that right," he agreed, sweat dripping down his back as if to prove a point. Although both men were joking, they knew this was unheard of. In all seriousness, why _would_ someone leave their clothes in a pile and go missing?

Well, at least they'd had the foresight to keep the gate locked, whoever it was.

"What should we do?"

Before Ignis could recommend anything, both men heard faint screaming. They listened intently, the screaming bringing both right back to years ago when the same type of screaming alerted the city to Cerberus' intrusion. Talcott walked back to the vehicle, grabbing his phone and shaking his head. "Sir, if you don't mind, I'm just going to climb the gate. I'll just be careful around the barbed wire on top. Sitting here isn't going to help us any and there's no way we can pull the gate open with the machine mechanism locked right now. Plus, we need the code to get the stupid thing moving anyway. I'll go find someone and hurry back, ok?"

"Don't worry about me," Ignis smiled. "I can take care of myself."

Talcott smiled in return and walked to the gate, ascending the chain-links with ease. Once at the top, he cautiously swung himself over, careful to grab at points on the fence that weren't so dangerous, but he still managed to obtain a few superficial cuts and nicks in the process. Instead of climbing down, he chose to just jump, the shock of his fall causing him to grunt in discomfort. Without another word, Talcott jogged away to find help while simultaneously searching out the source of the screams.

Alone, Ignis crossed his arms and considered what to do now. He debated climbing the fence as well, but decided against that option, choosing instead to stand around and wait. The screaming in the distance came randomly and Ignis grew anxious, wondering what could be going on within the city that he couldn't get to. Surely someone like Cor or Aranea had it taken care of, but the entire situation felt off.

Then, he heard nothing, almost as if he'd gone deaf.

The world around him stilled with only the sound of his own breathing there to punctuate the quiet.

Dread pooled in his stomach. This absolute silence was familiar. But how? He would have remembered if he'd experienced this before, but no. This was new.

Then, it hit him. When the train they'd all been riding on from Cartanica stalled, Ignis and Gladio split up to help the passengers and to fix the engine, leaving Prompto and Noctis alone. It was Noctis that had experienced this before, right before Ardyn made his appearance as Prompto. Noctis relayed the entire scenario to them as soon as he could, detailing how quiet everything became before hell broke loose. If memory served Ignis right, and it usually did, it was eerily like this moment.

"Hello, Ignis."

He whirled around so suddenly that he nearly fell backward, the enunciation of his name startling him. It was Aranea saying his name, her boots clicking on the pavement as she approached him with confidence and grace. Aranea, calm and fearless.

Aranea, outside of Lestallum, instead of inside where he was sure she would have been right about now.

He wasted no time dwelling on the specifics, chalking it up to her running an errand outside city limits, or training in her spare time. "Aranea, you've got to get out of here," Ignis warned, holding a hand out to detain her while keeping an ear out for the danger he was sure was within the area.

"Why would I do that?"

"Please trust me. Ardyn is here. He's— "

He was halted by the sharp sting of a backhanded slap across the face, the force of it surprising him. Wide-eyed and too stunned to even utter a single word, he raised a hand to his cheek in shock. He knew the area where she'd slapped him had already begun to redden and it hurt more than he let on.

"You don't think I can't take care of myself? You think I would honestly want _you_ to protect _me_? My dear, you can barely protect yourself. You, with barely the sense to guide yourself from point A to point B? You, only half the man you were before Altissia?"

With a hand still to his cheek, Ignis furrowed his brows and took a step back. "What are you— "

Another sentence left unfinished as he took a hit to his stomach, doubling over and falling to his knees with his arms wrapped around his abdomen. Ignis felt his glasses slide to the tip of his nose but didn't have the strength to push them back up as he coughed from the blow. From above, Aranea still taunted him. "You fool. Who do you think you are, running around this world like you have a chance in _hell_ of ever protecting Noctis from what lies ahead of him? He doesn't want you in his retinue. Why would he? You're a liability. Dead weight. A _failure_."

Ignis closed his eye, shaking his head. No, this was a dream. This wasn't Aranea. It couldn't be. But he had no way of knowing and it sure as hell _sounded_ like her so, by all accounts, it had to be her. He wanted to warn her again that Ardyn was here and she needed to get away, despite the fact that she was torturing him with an endless barrage of insults and jeers. Regardless of how she felt about him, he never wanted to put her in harm's way. He'd rather die than see her get hurt.

However, he couldn't get the words out over her incessant teasing. "How does it feel, Ignis? Knowing no one can rely on you? Once the 'Jack of all Trades', now reduced to a bumbling handicapped fool; the laughingstock of all of Lestallum. Don't think, for one second, that anyone takes you seriously. Not Gladiolus. Not Prompto. No one. Why would they?"

Ignis choked on his words. On his knees, he hunched over and his glasses finally fell from his face, clattering on the stone under him. It wasn't possible to block her out as the words resounded in his head. "Tell me," she purred, one finger drawn under his chin and pulling his blind stare to her. "How is that injury working out for you? How does it feel to be all alone, forever? With only your thoughts to keep you company?"

"Stop . . ." Ignis managed, thoughts still on making sure she retreated to safety. "Aranea, I-I . . . get out of here, now."

"No one, including myself, will ever love you. You're damaged. Irrevocably broken. A man held once in such high esteem, now no more than a shell of his former self. What a shame, really." Her dark laughter startled him and he suddenly felt very afraid. This wasn't right. Something wasn't right. He reached out, feeling for her but was tossed away to the ground. "Just give into the darkness. You already live in it every day; why not just let it wash over you and take you away for good?"

Ignis couldn't listen anymore. He didn't want to. He clamped his hands over his ears, humming a soft tune to further drown out Aranea.

No.

It wasn't Aranea.

There's no way she could be this cruel and heartless.

This was not the woman he fell in love with.

His hair was being pulled and he felt the pain deep in his skull. He let out a yelp and whimpered, never having felt more helpless in his life than in this moment. What was wrong with him? He had been trained to fight, to survive, to live through torture tactics. It was one of the requirements to be in the Crownsguard. Yet, he could barely get through whatever _this_ was. This emotional and psychological torment. It was a living nightmare.

Her breath was in his ear. "You're worthless. Useless. Don't even try to deny it. We all know it. Once you realize it, the better off you'll be."

He strained to turn his head up toward her, trying and failing to keep a strong face. "You're not serious, are you?" he practically pleaded, his voice scarcely above a whisper. He was too proud to cry over something like this, but the lump in his throat ached and he sunk deeper into himself, succumbing to Aranea's taunting.

It was more than he could take.

Maybe she was right.

Maybe, no matter what he did, he'd never be good enough.

* * *

 

Amid battling another rogue daemon, Aranea heard Talcott calling her name, breathless as he ran toward her. Without wasting another second, Aranea brought her weapon down on the daemon's head, crushing its skull, before she willed the spear away. "Sorry, daemons are managing to get into the city, so we've been on high alert. We've checked the entire perimeter of the city, but there aren't any holes in the fencing, so we're stumped." Then, she noticed that Talcott had arrived alone. "Small fry, where's Specs? Prompto said you both left for Costlemark together a few days ago."

"I had to climb the gate to get in," he started to explain. Aranea's forehead crinkled as she wordlessly signaled for Talcott to continue. "We were waiting for someone to let us in, but whoever was manning the gate stripped down and left. I had to climb up and around to get in. I would've opened the gate, but I don't know the code and I said I'd find you or someone else to help us."

"Let me get this straight; you guys drove back, sat and waited for someone to let you in, and realized that guard shack was empty and whoever was on duty just up and left their clothes?"

"Yes, ma'am."

 _Just great,_ she thought, pinching the bridge of her nose. "So, did Specs go back to the hotel or something?"

"No, I told him I'd be right back with help and he should stay—hey. Wait. You said daemons have been getting in?" Aranea nodded and Talcott brought a hand to his mouth. "Oh my gods. It makes sense. The Starscourge. People disappearing and their clothes . . ."

Aranea grew nervous as Talcott's face drained of color. "What's your point?"

Talcott took several steps backward, gearing up to break into a run back. "We read about this. The daemons are people. They're people like you and me and they don't disappear when they're afflicted with the Scourge. They turn into daemons. Someone's infecting the people and I think that means that Ignis could be in trouble."

"What?!"

"Don't ask! We gotta get back to the truck right now!"

Aranea ran past Talcott, panic clawing at her insides and her legs feeling like lead as he raced behind her. They ran together and finally weaved their way through the streets to the abandoned gate. In the distance upon their approach, Aranea recognized Ignis crumpled in a heap on the ground, hunched over with his hands covering his ears. It was a rather pathetic sight, not typical of Ignis at all.

With the code to the gates all memorized, Aranea dashed into the guard shack, punching in the six-digits. The glint of the AWOL guard's dog tag caught her eye and she picked up the pile of clothing in one hand while examining the tag in the other. Between the sudden appearance of the daemons in the city and the absence of the guard, there was something going on. Aranea yelled to Talcott to go find Prompto, Gladio, Cor, someone. Anyone. She didn't care who, but she needed backup.

As Talcott ran off again, Aranea fidgeted impatiently, the gate slow to open. She kept her eyes on the advisor, though he was still too distraught in his own thoughts and torments to notice she was there. As soon as clearance was granted, she ran forward and knelt to the ground beside him, trying to pull his hands away from his ears. "Ignis, what's wrong? Dammit, what the hell is wrong?" she begged for a response, holding his wrists tightly. "Look at me and tell me what happened."

He looked at her with fear, shoving her away and scuttling back. Before he could get far enough, she lunged forward, pinning him to the ground and holding him tight. "Fuck, Specs. What the hell has gotten into you? It's me! Aranea!"

Ignis was muttering something incoherent, trying to break free from her grasp as Aranea struggled to keep him under her, at least until help arrived. No amount of consoling broke through his reverie and she was shocked at how desperate he was to get away, his fingers scraping the ground as he fought for freedom.

"Ignis, stop! What are you doing? Please tell me— "

"Commodore Aranea Highwind! What a wonderful surprise! I was hoping to run into you after these terribly long years," a seductive voice dripped behind her, sending her pulse through the roof. "Having some trouble, are we?"

When Ignis stilled under her, she slowly stood and turned around, coming face to face with the aubergine-haired and flamboyantly-dressed Ardyn Izunia, looking exactly the same as he did when she was under his command. His hand danced idly in the air as he spoke and he didn't look to have a care in the world.

"You. What are you doing here?"

He sneered. "Why, I'm here to check on my handiwork! I live for chaotic situations and, between the daemons in your city and . . . this," he pointed at Ignis, "I'm sure getting quite the show."

"You?" she motioned to the city and the empty guard shack, "you did this?"

"Commodore, you don't _really_ think this was all a mere coincidence, do you? I pegged you for a smarter person than that than to attribute _anything_ to chance anymore."

Aranea growled, debating whether to draw her weapon on Ardyn or not, halfway remembering Ignis telling her that Ardyn was immortal, but she stopped when she observed a mischievous glimmer in his eye. "Daemons . . . tragic creatures, aren't they? They didn't ask for the fate they were handed, with their only salvation being death."

She stiffened. "What are you talking about?"

Ardyn ignored the weight behind her question, responding instead with, "What would King Noctis do if his friends were made to be daemons? What a sad, miserable scenario to come back to . . . much worse than simply coming back to this dark world." Ardyn made a wide, sweeping gesture toward Ignis, still in a ball on the ground with his eye clenched tightly shut. "What would that do to _you_ , Commodore, if I freed Ignis from his personal, claustrophobic hell? It's not like he's much use in the state he's in now, is he?"

Aranea felt the heat of anger redden her cheeks, her eyes narrowing in disgust. "You bastard," she seethed. "What the fuck did you say to him? What did you do?"

"Now, why on _Eos_ would you think it was _I_ who did anything to harm the precious royal advisor? I'm offended you'd even insinuate— "

"Can it, fucker. You're not fooling me."

Ardyn sighed a long and drawn out breath, his shoulders sagging in mock defeat. "Well, I may have pretended to be you, but only for a moment," he quickly added, as if that made his actions any better. "Can you blame me? I've been _so bored_ lately and it was either that or make him my pet. Daemons can really come in handy, you know."

"You lay one hand on him and I promise on Shiva's grave you'll regret ever doing so. You no-good, cock-sucking— "

"My word," Ardyn gasped, his hand on his chest and eyes wide. "Such foul words coming from such a pristine woman—and directed at her superior?"

"You were _never_ my superior," Aranea spat venomously.

He chuckled deeply, the entire scene before him comical. With two large strides, he was standing inches from Aranea, but now his face was becoming distorted with black streaks of some tar-like substance leaking from his eyes. Hollowed eyes. Ardyn didn't care.

Aranea sensed that he welcomed this physical change, knew that it terrified her, but she refused to back down. Not now. Not for this asshole. Still, when he placed a hand on her cheek, smirking that devilish smile that he was so well-known for, she gulped down a scream.

Ignis was still behind her, but he wasn't making a sound anymore. His eye was open and his face was pale. Ardyn glanced over Aranea's shoulder at the mess of a man on the ground behind her and then returned his attention back to her. "I could turn him and everyone you know into daemons, just like I did your comrade, Ravus. It's so easy and I wouldn't have to lead such a miserable existence with them by my side. But, I wouldn't want to take away another loved one from you, not after seeing how well you're doing with this one in your life," he mocked, referring to Ignis.

"You're a piece of shit, you know that?"

"I've been called far worse for much smaller offenses," he bit back. "Well, Aranea Highwind, I'll let you get back to your 'friend', as you so lovingly call him before he spontaneously combusts. Although, my only request is that you tell him that if it's information he seeks on my heritage, he needs not look any further than the Angelguard prison. There he'll find all the answers he needs, right there for the taking," he advised, though his cheerful demeanor faded as he told her this, replaced with an air of hostility and evil when he sensed Aranea's hesitancy. "Fear not, my sweet subordinate—this is not a trap. If I wanted you or your new friends dead, I could have had your lives long ago. Death, you see, is a luxury only afforded to those few who are lucky to receive it."

"How thoughtful," Aranea snapped, brushing Ardyn's hand away from her face.

"If you only knew," he hissed, but soon the spite in his mannerisms was gone and back was the jovial attitude from before. He tipped his fedora. "As always, Commodore, it was wonderful catching up with you. Please, let's not let so many years pass before our next run-in, hm? I look forward to seeing you and your gang of merry men soon enough."

With the flick of his wrist, Ardyn turned and waltzed away into the darkness. Aranea swore she heard him laugh maniacally, but chalked it up to her imagination. The air was damp with heat and humidity, but Aranea shivered like it was colder than winter outside.

Harsh and ragged breathing from Ignis brought Aranea back and she was immediately by his side, one hand on his shoulder while the other brushed a few stray hairs from his forehead. Aranea hated seeing him in such a state. She forced a smile and spoke calmly. "Hey . . . hey Four-Eyes," she whispered as he turned to her, sweat beaded on his brow and down his neck.

"A-Aranea? Is that really . . ."

She nodded, settling into a seated position beside him, adjusting him so his head was in her lap. "Don't worry, it's really me. He's gone for now. Whatever he said," she ran her hand through his hair consolingly and did so again as she saw him close his eye and lean into the gesture, "whatever you were made to believe—just don't, ok? It's not true. None of it is."

He panted, drinking in the air as if he'd been deprived of it his whole life. Aranea laid a hand on his back, damp and warm from sweat. She felt her heart skip a beat as he looked at her and she swore he was deliberately making eye contact with her. He was finally coming to from his breakdown and he smiled wearily. "Hey."

"Hi," she whispered, smiling back

"We should get the vehicle back inside," he said and Aranea laughed.

"We'll do that in a minute. Let's just focus on you right now, ok?"

They may have stayed there for minutes or hours, Ignis lying in her lap, but Aranea didn't mind.

She would have sat there with him forever if she could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Another late night update, but it's here! Ok, so it's only 7:12 pm here, but still. I have my reasons! First of all, today is my birthday so yay happy birthday to me! Husband bought me a PS4 so I played that for a while this week, finally got around to beating Pitioss Dungeon (I nearly cried when I beat it, I was so happy), and then I did all kinds of adult stuff like yard work. So, yup, that's why this didn't come out earlier in the day. 
> 
> Also, I can't believe the awesome feedback I got with that kiss last chapter. I also can't believe that I've hit over 100 kudos on here! How freakin' exciting!! I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for all of you, so thank you guys! You all are the real stars :D 
> 
> Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm gonna go replay FFXV on the PS4 because I'm just shameless for this game (despite its glaring flaws). It's my birthday, dangit! I do what I want!
> 
> Whoops, one more thing! There was a line that Ardyn says to Noctis during their final battle where he brings up that he could have turned the Bros into daemons if he wanted to, but didn't. So, that's where a huge chunk of this scene came from :) I found it really intriguing.


	16. February 7th

**Water Under the Bridge  
February 7** **th**

Several weeks had passed since Ardyn's intrusion and his hint on where the best place would be to find any and all information on him. When Aranea finally divulged to Ignis that Ardyn told her of the location amid his own hysterics, she was quick to add that she didn't think it was a great idea to go. In fact, she said, she almost didn't want to tell Ignis any of this at all but felt she owed it to him to let him know. It almost felt dirty keeping something like that from him, she admitted.

Ignis had his elbows on the table, his fingers steepled as he let out a long and heaving sigh, only moving to readjust one of his suspenders so it sat better on his shoulder. Talcott held his head up with one hand and flipped back and forth between his notes and the books before them. Up until now, both tried to think of everything they could to avoid having to go to Angelguard Prison, a small island off the coast of Galdin Quay. Well, more so Ignis than Talcott. The teenager was always ready for adventure.

Talcott was adamant that they go, falling short of begging to head out, while Ignis played out all the ways in his mind that this could work against them. Getting to the island, first of all, would be a major obstacle. Of course, they could call on Cid for help in restoring and repairing the old boat that the used to get to Altissia; plus, he was always itching to put his brainpower to work, griping that he was growing dumber by the second with nothing to keep him occupied. He could easily get the old Caelum yacht up and running out of Cape Caem and they could be on their way to Angelguard in no time.

But, what if Ardyn was lying? What if, despite his promises, it was all a ruse? True, Ignis could very well hold his own in battle and he proved that time and time again over the last ten years, but it would only be him, Talcott, and possibly Cid alone on this island without any backup. At the same time, Ardyn didn't seem like a man who would swear by something and then lie. In a twisted sort of way, Ignis figured him a man of his word.

Still, the thought of relying on Ardyn for anything at all, including pertinent information on their studies, made Ignis sick to his stomach.

So, Talcott and Ignis returned to their books and scrolls, scouring over paintings and pictures, reading and rereading notes for the millionth time. The Prophecy painting was laid out across an empty part of the table, held down in the corners by stacks of books that weren't needed at the moment.

"Ignis," Talcott whined, bringing his head to the table and banging his forehead on it several times in frustration. "We've already looked through this book. I could recite it in my sleep by now."

"What about the pages that Ardyn left in the truck for us?"

"Nothing. Just the same old stuff on Costlemark and how Proditious was the ruler of Solheim. Like I said, I think Ardyn left those pages just to get us out of Lestallum. Costlemark is huge and has a lot of history on Solheim itself, but there's nothing there regarding the Izunia lineage." Talcott let his head rest on the books, his voice muffled. "I know you keep saying no, but I think we should start looking into going to Angelguard," he urged again, as he had since learning of the prison island.

His eye flitted to the teen and he sounded a little more irate than usual. "I'll think about it. Now, let's get back to the information we have right in front of us, for the time being."

Not wanting to get on Ignis' bad side, Talcott frowned but acquiesced, sitting up in his chair and rubbing his eyes. They both knew the real reason Ignis wasn't looking forward to going to the island had everything to do with his run-in with Ardyn before. Like always, Ignis compartmentalized the horrors of that day to the back of his mind and went about his days like nothing happened. But, still, they knew that something that day had set Ignis' drive and motivation back and it almost appeared like some days he was ready to throw in the towel.

The door to Ignis' room flew open and Aranea charged in screaming. "Specs! Small fry! Quick, we need you!"

Ignis sat forward in the chair while Talcott looked up from the book he was studying. Aranea crossed the room and grabbed Ignis by the hand, aware that he wasn't wearing his gloves. She pulled earnestly, forcing him to stand and follow behind. "What's the matter?" he asked while Talcott followed them.

At first, she didn't answer, just weaving him through the hall, down the stairs, and out of the Levelle. Every time he struggled to get his hand from her grasp, she held on tighter to the point that he could almost feel the loss of circulation to his fingers. He was growing annoyed—as everything seemed to make him lately—and, with a final tug, he pulled away. "Aranea, I'm very busy today. If this isn't important, then I ask that you allow Talcott and myself to return to our studies. Are daemons loose again?"

"No."

"Is someone injured?"

"No."

"That settles it. I'm going back to my room."

Aranea grabbed his hand again, holding him back while she looked at Talcott with a smirk. Talcott couldn't understand why she was so insistent that Ignis go with her, but she was never one to do something for no reason. She was the true definition of a free-spirited person, but at least she always had a plan.

"Maybe we can take a short break just to see what she wants," he suggested, much to Ignis' dismay.

"Listen to the kid, Specs, and follow me," she insisted, never relinquishing his hand from her grip. "Do you trust me?"

Ignis raised an eyebrow at her question. "Perhaps."

"Then shut up and come with me."

The trio began to march onward again and Ignis groaned. "I'm starting to think this may be a bad idea."

"Ahhhh, loosen up. It won't kill you to take a five-minute break."

"Is that all the time you'll need?"

Aranea ignored him but gave Talcott a knowing wink. With every complaint that came out of Ignis' mouth, Aranea's smile grew wider. The path that they were taking was incredibly familiar, though not one Ignis took all too often. Still cross, he sighed and realized exactly where she was taking him.

"Aranea, I don't have time to grab a drink with you at the bar. As I mentioned beforehand, _I have work to do_."

"I think it can wait for this," she hinted as they entered the bar.

"Wait for what?"

There was a split second of silence, the trio standing at the entrance of the bar before the room exploded with a loud "SURPRISE!"

Ignis blinked, not really comprehending what was happening. He turned his head to Aranea and then to Talcott, utterly confused. "Surprise . . . for what?"

Prompto's loud and cheerful laughter reverberated from beside one of the tables. "Dude, you're the worst! Do you not know what today is?"

"I . . . no? I'm afraid I don't."

Aranea elbowed him in the side, giggling. "Seriously Specs? Does February 7th ring any bells?"

As if a light bulb went off over his head seconds later, Ignis' face changed and he was now looking incredibly sheepish. "My birthday," he acknowledged, but then rolled his eye in a joking manner. "You don't think I _really_ believe this is all for me, so much as it is a reason for you all to get inebriated?"

That accusation sent another round of laughs throughout the bar and Ignis found himself relaxing into the situation. Aranea wasn't trying to annoy him at all. They'd planned this party for him and he nearly ruined it with his ill-tempered attitude. He turned to apologize to the Commodore, but she'd already walked away.

It sounded like everyone was there. Prompto and Cor. Cid's gruff voice could be heard somewhere nearby and it sounded like even Cindy—an even worse workaholic than Ignis—had taken the night off to make the trek out to Lestallum. Iris, quieter than usual, sat on a stool by the bar where Talcott joined her.

And, Ignis could not mistake that familiar laugh. That contagious, amiable laugh that could crumble the angry façade of anyone.

Gladio, arms crossed and standing proud, was toward the back where the pool tables were. It didn't matter how long they'd gone without talking; he still showed up to his best friend's birthday party and Ignis felt a weight lifted off his shoulders. They still had much to talk about and they had all night to get to that point, but for him to show up it was definitely a start.

Prompto eagerly tugged at Ignis' sleeve and not a single second was spared as the festivities got underway. Everything sounded so lively, from the conversations that Ignis overheard to the music that was beginning to play, a stark juxtaposition to the world they'd grown familiar with right outside the building.

There was a lot of small talk at first. It wasn't often that everyone was in the same room at the same time for anything other than the occasional town hall meeting, so everyone took this opportunity to relearn what was going on in each other's lives. When everyone had their drinks and the platters of finger foods were eaten, someone proposed that Ignis opened his presents. After some convincing, he sat in a chair while Prompto handed him some crudely wrapped boxes. New Orichalcum daggers from both Prompto and Gladio ("Great for when you go off into battle. Gladio picked them up at the Medalcio Hunter's HQ a while back and we thought you could use a new weapon!"), coffee grounds and some rare cooking spices from Iris and Talcott ("It's not Ebony, but hopefully it'll do. And you can never have too many spices for cooking!"), the promise to buy however much alcohol he wanted from Cid and Cor, and then Aranea threw her present into Ignis' lap.

"Don't get too excited. It's not as awesome as everyone else's stuff," she griped. When he finally got the box opened, he reached in and picked up a book. Eyebrows knitted in confusion, he flipped through the pages and frowned, but Aranea was quick to explain. "It's the same book I started to read to you when we camped that time. We never got to finish it because your lame ass started to fall asleep, remember? I figured, between you not being able to read anymore and the fact that I haven't had time to get further in the book, we could read it together. Well . . . um . . . I could read it to you since obviously _you_ can't read it yourself since you can't see and all if you want no need to commit to anything like I said it's a dumb gift," she said, her words one long run-on sentence of awkwardness.

"You're wrong," he smiled, flipping through the pages again. "It's not a dumb gift at all. In fact, it's the most thoughtful gift I think I've ever received. Thank you, Aranea."

Color flooded her cheeks, but she pretended like his compliment meant nothing to her. "Yeah, whatever. I mean, you only turn 30 once in your life, right?"

"32."

"Huh?" she looked confused.

"I'm 32. Not 30," Ignis corrected, placing the book back into the box and moving the box to the stack of other presents beside him. By this point, everyone had meandered away to converse more and Aranea remained, towering over Ignis as he sat in the chair with his second cold beer of the night in his hand.

Aranea couldn't believe that so many years has flashed by. She could've _sworn_ it had only been 7, _maybe_ 8 years. Ignis could virtually hear her thoughts and he took a sip of his beer. "9 and a half years of darkness, give or take. I'm as thrown as you are. A bit strange how fleeting time can be, even when you don't feel you have much to hold on to."

"Damn, Specs. That's a bit dark."

"Such is my life these days," he joked, albeit with a hint of sardonicism. It didn't stop Aranea from snorting out a quiet laugh and they both were relieved that, even in the midst of hell, they could still find humor in the darkest of situations with each other

Both went their separate ways for a few hours, Aranea gravitating toward Biggs and Wedge and occasionally Iris. Prompto and Cindy, on the other hand, declared that the party was too quiet for their tastes and opened the doors of the bar to the general population of Lestallum. As more and more people crammed inside, dying to enjoy a night of fun and debauchery, Ignis slipped outside to one of the patio tables and chairs, appreciating the quieter atmosphere that the patio had to offer. Inside, the blonde duo turned the music up to its max and it sounded more like a nightclub than a dingy bar.

The songs crossfaded one into the next, their sounds blending into one incredibly long track. Ignis lost track of how long he'd been alone outside before someone joined him, scraping the chair against the ground and setting a shot of potent liquor in front of the both of them while taking a seat. The person didn't say anything else at first, so Ignis waited

"Hey," Gladio greeted stiffly, but he was trying nonetheless.

"Gladio."

It was tense but still comfortable. Weird, but familiar. The anger had completely subsided from the fight, but that didn't make this exchange any easier to start. Ignis heard Gladio edge the shot closer to him, almost as if this was his way to get the conversation going, but Ignis pretended he didn't notice. He loved Gladio dearly as they'd been friends forever, but he wanted his friend to talk. Say something. Not use a shot of alcohol as a social lubricant and hope that would suffice.

Gladio sighed. "Ok . . . look. I'm . . . _sorry_ ," he finally managed, though Ignis was sure the word probably tasted like acid coming out. "I'm really sorry. I hate not talking to you and this radio silence is killing me. I let my anger get the better of me and I never truly blamed Aranea for what happened, honest. I was pissed and scared and . . . fuck, Iggy, I wasn't thinking straight, ok? She was the accidental scapegoat and I shouldn't have gone after her, or you, like that."

Ignis pushed his glasses up higher on his nose, considering this apology. Of course, he knew he was no saint in the matter—resorting to violence in that second wasn't Ignis' proudest moment, so there was that. He sighed, echoing the same sentiments that Gladio was no doubt feeling right now. "It was a hectic situation, indeed. I fear you forget that I know you better than you know yourself sometimes. I . . . also apologize for the role I played in that fight," he smirked. "But karma came for me in the form of bruised knuckles for a while for punching you like I did—though I'm sure my hit did little in the way of leaving a lasting effect on you."

Gladio chuckled. "My jaw ain't made of glass, you know. It takes a lot more than that to really hurt me. But, I gotta hand it to you, you landed a nice punch. Stunned me for sure."

One more time, Gladio nudged the shot glass to his friend. "So? Can we lower our weapons and wave the white flags? Realize that I'm a total asshole and I deserved what I got?"

Ignis took the shot in his hand. "Let's let bygones be bygones." He brought the shot to his nose and immediately pulled away at the scent, his face pinched with disgust. "Bloody hell, this smells like pure rubbing alcohol."

"It's the best shit that Rosaline—err, I mean, the bartender—has," Gladio recovered his slip up too late and Ignis raised an eyebrow in his direction.

"Close enough with the bartender to know her name?"

"Ahhh, shut it. Anyway, a few of these and you'll be on your ass in no time."

"Well, if it's all the same with you, I'll just take one."

Together, they raised their shots and Ignis felt Gladio's calloused hand on his shoulder. "To you, brother. Here's to hoping this year will be your best year yet. Happy birthday."

With sharp inhales and tentative smiles, they slammed the glasses to the table and quickly brought them to their mouths, the liquid damn near painful going down their throats. They made various faces, waiting for the burning to subside as it warmed every inch inside their chests.

"Shit," Gladio hissed, regaining the use of his voice before he took a swig of beer to rid the taste of the liquor.

"Indeed."

Two more pairs of footsteps—no doubt Cor's and Cid's, Ignis judged—approached and Ignis turned his ear toward them while Gladio waved them over.

"Well, if it isn't Prince Noctis' Chamberlain and bodyguard," a gruff greeting from a voice tinged by age and a few too many cigarettes. Ignis smiled and nodded his head as he felt Cid's hand slap him on the back, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Somehow, despite his years, Cid retained much of his strength and vigor. "Happy birthday, son. Havin' yourself a good time?"

"Yes, sir. Just catching up with Gladiolus over some drinks. What brings you and the Marshal out here?"

"You youngins and that shit you call music damn near causing my eardrums to rupture. I can't hear a goddamn thing anyone is saying to me. My granddaughter seems to like it, though, so I don't have the heart to have the staff turn it down," Cid complained.

"Mind if we sit with you? Trying to have a conversation in there is impossible," Cor asked, not wanting to intrude on Gladio and Ignis' discussion, but Cid was already pulling a chair out to sit so Cor reluctantly followed suit.

Cid never was a man known for his manners, or lack thereof.

They four fell into a steady stream of dialogue: tales of King Regis and Clarus, how Noctis wouldn't eat his vegetables no matter what Ignis did, the night that Gladio stumbled home from a high school party and Clarus was waiting in the wings of the hallway to scold him. Nothing was off limits tonight. They all laughed and even Cor could be heard chuckling a few times.

Then, the talk deviated down a more serious avenue. Cid leaned forward, elbows on the table, as he pointed a shaking finger in Ignis' direction. "So, a little birdie told me you might need my help soon."

"Sir?" he questioned, trying to wrack his brain as to what he'd need Cid's help for.

"Don't play dumb with me, son," Cid clucked. "That protégé of yours came and asked me to fix up Reggie's old boat again so you two could jet on over to that Angelguard Prison. Said you was too stubborn to admit you needed to go there and you needed a push to get your ass up and movin'."

Ignis scowled, more than vexed that Talcott went behind his back. "With all due respect, that is not his decision to make. We will make do with the information we have now. No sense in putting ourselves in danger just to figure out who the Chancellor really is—or was."

Gladio shifted in his seat, but it was Cor that said what the other men were thinking. "If you're serious about this research, it might be a trip worth considering. It's ok to be scared, Ignis. With everything you've been through, and with the recent incident outside the city limits," Ignis recoiled when Cor brought that up, "it's natural to want to stay within the confines of safety."

"Marshal . . ." Ignis warned, careful to keep an even tone so it wouldn't sound like he was defying him in any way. That was the last thing he wanted to do.

"Iggy, listen to the guy. He has a point," Gladio mumbled.

He felt cornered. "You don't understand the power that we're up against. Or, maybe you do, who knows. I just don't think it's a wise move for myself and Talcott to get on a boat to Angelguard when we don't even know what is there anymore. Ardyn may have said it's not a trap, but what if it is? What if we get there and we're ambushed? No slight at Talcott, but I can't say we'd survive just the two of us if there was something there waiting for us. After all, let's be frank; there's only so much I'm capable of doing."

Cor nodded, pondering the response with a sip of his drink. "Would you feel more comfortable if I sent someone like, say, Commodore Highwind along with you?" he proposed. "I feel strongly that Highwind would be a great candidate to accompany you. Perhaps I could talk her into joining you? I know she's fairly busy, but I think I could possibly send her your way for a few days."

Gladio snorted and received two confused looks and one glare that could kill, if possible. "Gladiolus," Ignis clipped, using his full first name to hammer home just how irritated he was getting. "Something funny?"

Shaking his head, Gladio waved him off and shut his mouth by chugging the rest of his beer. Then, Cid leaned back and sneered. "Ahhhh, now I see. It's funny because of _course_ she would accompany you. The girl is crazy for you. The Chamberlain and the Commodore; a power couple in the making."

Ignis balked at the suggestion. "Yes . . . I mean, no! Errr . . . well, she's an attractive woman from what I remember, but she . . . Marshal, Cid . . . I . . ."

By now, Ignis had gone ten different shades of red, stuttering and stammering inarticulate words and phrases. The sight of the Royal Advisor unable to defend himself under such scrutiny made the other men roar with laughter.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," Aranea interrupted, quieting them with her velvety voice, though a few snickers still manage to escape. "Mind if I steal the birthday boy for a dance?"

Gladio couldn't help himself as he buried his head into the crook of his elbow on the table and laughed. "It appears my friend has a case of the giggles," Ignis excused dryly as the redness of his cheeks dulled and his natural color returned. "Also, I don't imagine the type of dancing I'm familiar with would suit this sort of music."

Aranea rolled her eyes, her hands on her hips. "Oh, Gods no, Specs. We'd be laughed right out of this joint if we did any of that formal, stuffy waltzing shit here. No, you're following _my_ lead tonight."

Oh.

He appreciated her request, but the dancing that she had in mind wasn't something he'd ever been comfortable with. It wasn't that he hadn't ever gone out with Noctis, Gladio, and Prompto and tried it. Gods know he'd been pulled out onto the dance floor numerous times by various women and he really did try, in the midst of hundreds of other lust-driven and sweat-slicked bodies, but his overanalytical mind usually ruined everything when he questioned if he was moving ok, if his hand was placed in the right spot. If the girl was having fun. If. If. If. It was never enough for him to just go with the flow. He'd typically end up frustrated and stormed back to the bar, where he'd remain hidden until the rest of the guys, drunk and breathless, sought him out so they could leave.

Her fingers were now reaching for him, pulling at his striped shirt sleeve insistently as he sat steadfast in his seat. The bass of the dance song playing throughout the bar was deafening, even though he was outside, and Ignis predicted a headache in his near future, brought on by the pounding music and maybe one too many beers. He didn't want to dance, his face pleading but he still wore a polite smile.

In a last-ditch effort, he waved away Aranea's hand, fumbling with an excuse, but irritated that he needed an excuse at all. It was his birthday; wasn't a simple 'no' enough? He moved to grab his drink, growing warmer as he'd been nursing it for far longer than he meant to, but Cid groaned and kicked Ignis under the table. Hard. It would leave a bruise on his shin in the morning for sure.

While cursing under his breath, Aranea took the opportunity to yank him up by the bicep and pull him away from the three men. Ignis could almost hear Cid ragging on the two of them over the beat of the music and then the faint clinking of his, Cor's, and Gladio's bottles as they toasted to Ignis' misfortune.

The dance floor was sparse of people, that much he could tell. The lack of anyone around him made Ignis strangely self-conscious. Either Aranea didn't notice or she ignored how stiff he was because she now had an arm draped up his shoulder and around the back of his neck, moving her hips into his.

He'd been up against the biggest of daemons, faced down the Niflheim Empire, ventured into the darkest of dungeons in all of Eos. All of that, the fear he felt in those moments, couldn't compare to the absolute trepidation he was feeling right now while dancing with Aranea Highwind.

Aranea leaned into his ear, beer on her tongue. "I thought you said you could dance," she teased, her fingers playing with the fine hairs on his hairline at the back of his neck.

"I can in a professional setting," he yelled back.

"Oh, pull the stick out of your ass and have fun for once."

"Pardon?" he said, reaching up to grab her hand from his neck but her laughter stopped him.

"You heard me! Let loose for once in your life and just dance with me!"

He wanted to push her away. He tried with every fiber in his being to tell her that he was incredibly uncomfortable with this, that he just wanted a nice night of drinking and talking with friends on the night of his birthday, but he knew she wouldn't listen. Then, he felt her turn away and suddenly her ass was pressed into him and her left hand was in his hair, moving just so it would entice him enough. She dropped low to the ground, practically sitting on the floor, before rising slowly, making sure to take her time as she straightened up in his hips, resting only for a split second over the crotch of his pants. Ignis felt his face flush and they both knew exactly what it was she was doing.

They weren't dumb.

One side of him wanted to deny her and walk away, to knock back a few more beers and just chill. His other side screamed for him to stay. After all, when was the last time that he really threw caution to the wind? He didn't have anyone to answer to right now and the object of his affections was literally in his hands, begging for him to give in with every move and every touch.

Who did he have to answer to right now, anyway?

For a brief second, he felt her hesitate, sensing that he truly wasn't comfortable with the situation, but his hands flew to her hips, holding there and stopping her from leaving. The tempo picked up and he inched one hand down slightly and let his other hand join hers, interlacing his fingers with hers as they were still curved around the back of his neck. He realized she was wearing a tank top as her arms were completely bare all the way up to her shoulders and he noted she was just a little taller than usual, concluding that she must have been wearing her high-heeled boots that night. Tank top, jeans, her boots . . . the image of her in his head was enough to end him right there.

In that moment, he let go. All of his hang-ups, all of his inhibitions, everything that was holding him back. He let it all go, chalking it up to the alcohol. Sure, he thought. That would be his excuse. It was the alcohol.

It certainly wasn't the fact that a very attractive woman (as his memory recalled) was grinding into him, the heat between them unmistakable.

His fingers dug into her thigh, her blue jeans flesh against her tight, muscular physique, and he smiled at the feeling of her hand in his on his neck. Aranea reciprocated his unexpected eagerness with another slow dip down to the ground, once again slow in her ascent. He bit his lower lip to stifle a moan and knew if she continued dancing the way she did, she'd notice his arousal for sure.

"A bit of a dangerous game, wouldn't you say?" he cautioned.

"What?" she replied innocently, her doe-eyes shining as she glanced over her shoulder at him, barely able to make out his features in the dark bar. "I have no clue what you're talking about."

If it weren't for the music, Aranea would have heard him hum a sarcastic response, but the only thing she was able to make out was his tightened grip on her hips, twitching and wanting to take things further but gentlemanly enough to remain where they were for decency's sake. He leaned into her, resisting the urge to plant a kiss on her neck, salty and damp from sweat.

For the entirety of the next song, both danced in sync with each other, her ass pressing precariously into his pelvis. The beat faded into a much faster tempo and Aranea turned around, now placing both her arms around Ignis, loving to watch how he seemed to melt when she played with his hair. She smirked as she felt one hand snake up her back, palm against her while his other hand remained steady on her hip. It was hot and the bar had begun to reek of sweat, alcohol, and cigarettes, but they didn't mind. They were too lost in each other to care.

Even now as Ignis found himself grinding against her, trying his damnedest to remain present and focused, it was utterly useless. She'd broken him. Completely and mercilessly tore down his walls without any remorse and left him wanting more. She was his drug and he was an addict and Gods did he love it. The rush. The thrill. The _sin_ of it all. Everything about her tantalized him in the best way. He felt like he was drowning in Aranea and everything she was and he had no want to be saved.

She looked up to see the edges of his lips pulled upwards, a devious thought on his mind, no doubt, and she leaned up to his ear. "You're so hot when you let loose, you know that?" When she saw him cock his eyebrow playfully, she laughed. "If I had known it would only take a few drinks and some loud music, I would have suggested this eons ago."

"Commodore, what is it you're secretly implying?" He pressed his forehead to hers and attempted to catch his breath—from the dance or his proximity to Aranea, he wasn't sure. They were close. Almost _too_ close. Ignis couldn't recollect a single time that they'd been so close to each other and he cursed himself for letting so much time go by before they got to this point in their relationship. Friendship. Whatever it was, he didn't care right now.

Titles be damned.

He was vaguely aware that they were slowing their dance, though the music continued to blast around them. This moment was almost akin to the one where they shared that kiss, everything in the world coming to a halt. Ignis brought his hand from her back up to her neck and started to lean in, his lips almost on hers, but a dull flash of a light jolted him out of his attempt. Annoyed, he snapped his head up toward the source of the light and Aranea pulled away as well. Prompto ran up and smiled. "You guys looked really cozy, so I thought I'd snap a picture for prosperity's sake!" he yelled, turning his camera so he could show the couple—well, mostly Aranea—the snapshot, but he stopped short. Fear struck his heart at the look of pure loathing that Aranea shot him and he made a weird, inhumane whining sound, immediately retreated with his camera in hand as he took a few more random photos of the party.

Though the song still thumped its incessant bass, loud enough to feel in the pit of anyone's chest, Ignis realized how parched he was as he had difficulty wetting his lips. He extracted himself from her hands. "Shall I grab us a drink?" he suggested, heart beating fast and sweat falling down the side of his face. When did it get so hot in this bar? "Something other than alcohol? Best to stave off the dehydration now to avoid a hangover tomorrow."

Aranea shook her head. "No thanks, Specs. I'm ok for now," she said. "If you want to get back to the bar, the path behind you is clear so you can just walk straight back and not hit anything along the way."

"Are you sure you don't want anything? I'd be more than happy to get you something. I am, after all, the guest of honor, apparently," Ignis smiled. A genuine smile. One that Aranea hadn't seen in so long and, for a brief second, she debated taking him up on the offer, if just to get lost in his smile for a little bit longer. But she declined and excused herself, saying she needed some air. Or, at least, that's what Ignis _thought_ she said. He tried to get her to stay but, just as quick as she'd been to grab him before their dance, she was gone, leaving Ignis standing alone on the dance floor.

* * *

 

In the back of the bar, where the pool tables were, Prompto found respite from the angry Commodore and displeased advisor, promptly taking over for Cid in the pool game that was currently ongoing between him and Gladio. All three watched when Aranea walked away from Ignis.

"Great job," Cid said sarcastically.

Prompto groaned his displeasure. "I wasn't trying to get her to leave! I just thought they looked too good together _not_ to get a picture!"

Cid's laugh devolved into a coughing fit, only remedied by another long sip of his beer. Gladio lined up his shot, one eye closed as he brought the pool cue back. He struck the billiard ball just right so that it banked off the far corner, coming back and nudging the nine ball into the side pocket. "Bets on whether they seal the deal tonight?"

Prompto rubbed the cube of chalk over the tip of his cue, rolling his eyes dramatically. "No way. The furthest they've gone is kissing, and even that took forever! If they haven't had sex by now, they probably never will. Besides," he tapped his foot impatiently, "did you not see how she totally just abandoned him?"

Gladio straightened up, assessing the table and pointing his stick. "Back pocket," he declared. Before he bent over to take the shot, he smirked. "Yeah, but I have a good feeling about tonight."

Cid agreed, but Prompto was still skeptical. "I know that smirk. That's the smirk of a plan forming in your head."

"Oh, do I ever. Just a matter of getting them alone 's all."

Pulling the stick back a couple of times, and with a clean strike, he made contact with the white ball and it smacked against the eight ball with a loud crack, sending it clear across the table into the pocket that Gladio called.

* * *

 

It was getting late and the party dwindled. The string of Lestallum citizens coming in and out of the bar soon ceased. Much to Prompto's dismay, Cindy escorted her grandfather back to his apartment and she headed home to Hammerhead. Iris, Talcott, and Cor sat outside with their drinks and enjoyed each other's company without having to worry about daemons for once.

Inside, Ignis sat at the bar with Gladio and a dejected Prompto, the three of them chatting animatedly with the bartender. Ignis couldn't help but smile at how happy Gladio sounded when talking to her—Rosaline, was it? Ignis thought. When Gladio noticed that Ignis was losing steam, stifling a yawn with knuckles brought to his mouth, he beckoned for Aranea—standing in a corner while Biggs and Wedge played darts—to come over.

"Hey, could you do us a solid and walk Ignis back to the room? He can't hang with the big kids anymore and he could really use help getting all those presents back home," Gladio asked when she got close enough while Ignis shot him a look.

"Um . . . sure?" Aranea shifted skeptically. "I mean, I'd be happy to, but why can't you or Blondie take him?"

Prompto, at first confused that Gladio was putting this on Aranea, caught on to his plan and he moved to the edge of his stool. "Well, we're not ready to leave yet!"

"What makes you think I am?" Ignis scoffed as Aranea's eyes drifted from one man to the next and then back to Ignis. With a shrug, she chugged the last bit of her beer and leaned between Gladio and Ignis, one hand resting on the advisor's shoulders while her other hand slammed the beer bottle on the bar counter.

"This party was getting pretty lame anyway. I was ready to leave a half hour ago. Come on, Specs. Let's get your stuff and walk you home."

"But . . . really, I'm . . ." He tried to reject the thought of going home, but another yawn quieted him and he conceded to leaving with Aranea, unable to figure out why Prompto and Gladio were so eager to have him leave with her. With some parting words and another round of 'happy birthday's' from everyone, Aranea gathered up the handful of gifts and Ignis fell in step with her as they spilled out into the familiar damp air of Lestallum.

They made small talk on the way home, strangely awkward with each other, especially after their sexually-charged dance. It was as if the last years were moot and they were brand new to the idea of conversing together. More than once, they'd accidentally interrupt the other and apologies were made. It was embarrassing.

Finally, they made it to the Levelle and ambled up the stairs together. Ignis unlocked the door and stood aside, holding it open while Aranea scooted inside, balancing the handful of presents in her hands. Once inside, Ignis closed the door softly and moved around the room, turning on one light for her as she placed the presents on the table in the corner on top of the mess of papers and books that were left from earlier. Outside, there was quiet chatter in the streets. If they didn't know any better, tonight seemed just like a regular night out with friends. No death. No destruction. No apocalypse.

Crossing her arms, Aranea turned to the man who'd become her constant companion since the world went dark. "I hope you had fun, Specs. I know you probably were upset with me for dragging you away earlier, but I hope it was worth it. You deserve a good time once in a while," Aranea broke the silence, playing with her hands but never averting her eyes from him. They stood on opposite ends of the room, the space almost like a giant chasm between them.

"I did. Thank you. You all went above and beyond to ensure I had a great time. It was perfect. Everything I imagined."

Aranea nodded, opening her mouth and then shutting it. He stared at her with that beautiful smirk of his and it scared her enough that she averted her gaze to the floor. Scared her. He scared the ever-living shit out of her.

She looked back up and smiled, but it was forced and lacked emotion. "I should go. You're probably exhausted. Long day, right?" she laughed nervously.

Ignis grunted his assent but barely moved aside as she strode toward the door, attempting to skirt around him. He grabbed her arm. "Stay," he whispered.

The actions and the words tumbled from his mouth before he could even stop them and it was in that moment that he realized what exactly Prompto and Gladio had in mind when they coerced Aranea to walk him home. They saw it. Everyone saw it. The whole damn _world_ saw it. It seemed he was blind in more ways than one, but tonight he would force himself to see what was right in front of him.

She blinked. "Excuse me?"

"You don't have to leave," he breathed. "Stay the night. Stay with me."

Her mouth went dry and words evaded her as she blinked rapidly. He gently pulled her closer but she yanked her arm away, her heart thudding hard inside her chest. "What are you doing, Ignis?" she hissed, only to watch his face fall. "We can't. I can't. You . . . No. This can't happen."

"Aranea?"

"I have to go. You need to get some sleep and obviously you've had way too much to drink."

He still looked wounded and she could see his heart break before her eyes.

"I'm perfectly cognizant. I—"

"Well, then you don't know how to handle your alcohol, clearly," she retorted, nearly stumbling over her own words.

Ignis attempted to reach for her again but she backed away. "I thought . . . Surely I'm not mistaken? I thought—"

"You thought wrong." She stormed toward the door. "Good night, Ignis. I'll see you later."

"Aranea—"

"I said _good night_."

"Wait!"

"What?" she snapped with her hand on the doorknob, throwing a glare over her shoulder.

His hands were clenched by his side and he tried to fight it. This wasn't the moment. She still needed time. No, he couldn't do it. But the words bubbled up inside of him and he couldn't stop them and he could only imagine the shock on her face as the words were finally spoken out loud for the first time.

"I love you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Well, this chapter definitely got away from me! A lot happened during this party and a short chapter wouldn't do :) And I know I'm an evil person for the cliffhanger, but you still love me, right?? ;)
> 
> I am so excited with everyone's reaction to Ardyn in my last chapter! I wasn't anticipating that big of a reaction, so obviously I did something right when I wrote him. 
> 
> Usually, when I write these author's notes, I never remember what to say and then, as soon as I go to post, everything I wanted to write comes right back to my brain. I'm at that point right now where I know I had a ton to say, but I can't seem to remember. So, meh shorter author's note today with absolutely no point to it lol! 
> 
> I love you guys so much and all the love I receive with every chapter. You guys really don't know how much it means to me :) I say that every week, but it's true!!


	17. Up in Flames

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I think, after 4 months and 16 chapters, you all have been patient enough. Remember, I rated this M for a reason :)

**Water Under the Bridge  
Up in Flames**

"I love you."

Aranea froze, her hand gripping the doorknob so hard that her knuckles were white. She counted, forcing herself to breathe. All of a sudden, every snappy comeback and every snarky remark fled her mind. She couldn't think. Couldn't move. All she managed was a "what?" about five octaves higher than her typical voice.

"I said I lo—"

"No . . . I heard what you said, I'm not deaf. I . . . what?" she squeaked. If he weren't so damn anxious right now, Ignis may have found her loss for words cute. She was probably staring at him with the look of utmost bewilderment. He took a deep breath, but it didn't calm his nerves. In fact, it only served to make him even more aware of just how stressful this situation was.

"What are you doing?" she whispered, repeating what she'd asked him before.

"Aranea, I love you. I've loved you for longer than I care to admit. You can't stand there and deny that you feel it, too. Why else would you have pulled me on the dance floor tonight? Gifted me that book for us to read together? Continue to find reasons to spar with me, even when it's clear that I am capable of fighting on my own? That kiss we shared in your room? I can keep going. I have a memory like a steel trap, Aranea."

"I . . . I don't . . . Please don't . . . "

He took a couple of cautious steps forward but still kept a fair distance. He was afraid if he stepped any closer, it would intimidate her. Everything about right now was intimidating enough. "Give me one reason—one valid, honest-to-Astrals reason why this wouldn't work. Or, why you _don't_ want it to work. Give me one good reason Aranea because it's _killing_ me that you continue to give me mixed signals."

"Oh, fuck off!"

Ignis caught her arm before she could fathom fleeing. "Tell me. Just tell me!"

She exploded, emotional word vomit spewing from her. "Fine! You want to know why I'm hot one minute and cold the next? It's because I can't lose you! You have no idea how hard I've worked to keep everything and everyone away just so I don't have to go through the heartache of having them taken from me like he was," she yelled, referring to the man she once loved in her younger years. "I've tried every fucking day to put my feelings for you aside, but you . . . Ignis, I don't think you know how much you mean to me and how it tears me apart that this can all be taken away. It's fucking debilitating to think how strong my feelings are and that tomorrow something could happen and it—you—could be gone."

Ignis' hand went lax on her arm. "I haven't forgotten about him, Aranea. I know it may seem like I have, but I haven't. What happened between you two and his fate was unfortunate, but you're living your life by running from everything. Please, stop running and stay here—right here—with me. If I must fight down every daemon in Eos or face Ardyn head on, I will if it means I return home to you. Come Ifrit's lair or high water, I will always find my way back to you. You'll never lose me."

There was quiet, but then Aranea hurled another defensive excuse. "Well, what happens when the Prince comes back, hm?" she snapped.

"Aranea—"

"What? You seem pretty damn sure that he's returning. What about when he does? You'll pick right up and go back to his side, leaving me here."

"On the contrary; you would come with me."

"Funny. You know damn well there's not enough room for me in that relationship."

Ignis shook his head. "Have you not listened to a single word I've said? For you, I would _make_ room. I wouldn't . . . I couldn't go back to Insomnia without you. It's not even a thought in my mind to leave you behind. You, Aranea Highwind, are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Before you, I had nothing. I was robbed of my sight, His Highness vanished, I could no longer viably fight alongside my friends . . . I was praying for Ramuh to strike me dead. Yes, I was waiting and praying for my own death. That's how despondent I'd become."

The cold and frank way he said that knocked the wind out of her, but he continued. "Then, you came along. You saved my life. You made me—forced me—to be someone I aspired to be and, along the way, you made me fall for you. Don't you see? We can't go the rest of our lives playing 'what if' anymore. 'What if I die tomorrow', 'what if you get sent away and don't come back', what if . . . there's already so much 'what if's' in this world right now, but we can end one of those right now. There's no 'what if' on how I feel about you. I love you."

She didn't say anything and continued to gape at him. Ignis took her silence as rejection and he stood taller, his stance rigid. "If you don't feel the same, then go," he whispered, giving her an out if she needed to take it. "I ask that you not pity me. It would be a bitter pill to swallow, but I would go on with my life as I'm sure you would with yours. I'd look back on these moments spent together with fondness if that's what you wish. I will leave you alone and won't speak of this again."

She was mute. Ignis wanted to yell for her to say something. Dear Gods, say _anything_. He wasn't sure how much more of this uneasiness he could take and, though he could only see darkness, he felt the need to avert his eye to the ground, his shoulders slumping.

At least he'd given it his all. He laid it all out there for her, but it wasn't enough. Ignis wasn't going to force her to love him and he wouldn't convince her if she was truly adamant that this was what she wanted. If she wanted him to leave her alone for good, he'd do that.

"No."

He snapped to, almost certain that he'd heard her wrong. Right? Did she . . . Was this . . . "What?"

Aranea shook her head, her voice barely audible. "I won't go. You know fucking well I can't."

Before Ignis had any time to comprehend her words or the meaning behind them—before he could ask her to elaborate—she grabbed him by the suspenders and threw him against the wall with such force that he thought he may very well crash into the next room. That would have been enough to stun him, but her lips were pressed hard against his as she simultaneously pulled him closer to deepen the kiss. Every synapse was alight with burning desire, leaving no room anywhere in his psyche to even consider the very thought of being stunned. She tugged him into her, again, by his suspenders and kept him there. She wanted this. Judging by the way she was biting his lower lip, her tongue playing with his with a needing desire that rivaled his own, she'd been wanting this for a long time.

Well, he wasn't one to keep a lady waiting and he wasn't about to start now.

Bringing one hand up to the side of her face while his other hand rested—no, more like gripped for dear life—on her hip, he put every emotion and every single loving thought he'd ever had about this woman into kissing her in return. Ignis wanted her to know that words alone would never convey the depth of what he felt for her.

Their kiss deepened and his back was against the wall. The soft sounds Aranea made into his mouth were turning him on faster than he ever thought possible. In an effort to give himself some relief from the gnawing urge to bed her right there, he tried to push her pelvis into his with a forceful hand, maybe squeezing her a little tighter than he meant to when he heard her hiss quietly.

"Oh. Sorry, I didn't—" he apologized, wincing at the mere suggestion that he caused her any pain whatsoever.

She laughed. "I'm not a delicate doll, you know. Don't stop on my account." But he still wasn't convinced. Keeping her eyes on him, she turned her face into his bare hand, lips fervently kissing his palm. Ignis gasped as she captured one, then two of his fingers in her mouth, sucking slowly. Her tongue moving sinuously. He was paralyzed by what she was doing. What she was _implying_.

And she knew it. She fucking knew it.

She did this for a little longer before Ignis was so wound up with sexual tension that he ripped his fingers from her mouth, needing her lips on his again. This time, he wasn't as gentle as he had been before, his hands threaded through her hair and his teeth nipping at her lower lip.

Aranea's fingers fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, almost growing frustrated enough to rip the damn thing apart. But she finally got to the final button and her hands were now on his bare chest. "Fucking hell," she mumbled in between heated gasps and breaks in their kiss. "It's a crime to keep this body hidden under the damn outfits you wear."

Ignis mumbled a half-coherent thank you, though a red blush spread over his cheeks and down his chest at the compliment. Her fingers fluttered over his sides and she smiled as he reacted. "Sensitive?" she purred as she brought her hands up to his shoulders, removing his shirt and moving his suspenders so he was now topless with his suspenders dangling from the waistline of his pants. Aranea stopped, admiring him. His body. Everything. Slowly, she brought her face up to his, smirking as she removed his signature sunglasses from his face, surprised that he even let her.

But, in doing so, the act of removing the tinted glasses that had become a type of security blanket for Ignis brought a serious air to the room. In a moment of tenderness, contrasting with the heat and passion, she stood on her toes and brought his head down slightly, kissing his right eyebrow. His lower lip. The starburst-shaped scar that forever removed the sight from his left eye. She wasn't sure what came over her or why she did it, but it seemed right.

Ignis' chest heaved, his fingers tighter around her arms and Aranea pulled back, momentarily wondering if she'd made a mistake bringing his scars into the bedroom with them. He didn't move and her eyes searched his, looking for an answer. Something to tell her that he was ok.

Suddenly, it was Aranea against the wall as Ignis whirled her around and she was no longer in control. She smirked at his intense gaze, moving her head just enough to grant him access to her neck and, somehow, he understood. He nuzzled her head away further with his, kissing her cheek. Her ear. Her jawline. Licking the salty taste of perspiration and lust on her neck.

"It's not fair," Ignis' voice muffled into the crook of her neck. "I'm half-nude and you're still fully clothed."

She snickered, though it was more of a throaty snort than anything. "You have hands. Go ahead and make us equals, then."

Ignis didn't need to be told twice as he deftly reached for the hem of her tank top, lifting it over her head and then worked on getting her bra unclasped. When he did, she shrugged it off onto the floor. "There. Happy?" she said, standing before him completely shirtless, her pale skin practically glowing in the dim-lit room.

He tried to nod or give some sort of sign that, yes, he was happy, he was ecstatic, but instead he continued to cover her in kisses. Worshipping every inch of her body with his lips and tongue. He started to kneel before her, one hand unbuttoning her jeans while the other hand played with her breasts, teasing her nipple and eliciting a beautiful sigh. He wanted to hear that noise again and again if it was the last thing he ever heard.

Trailing kisses down her chest, rolling one nipple with his tongue, he wriggled her jeans slightly down her legs and her fingers dug into the back of his neck. It would have hurt if he weren't so overcome by desire. Finally, after deciding he'd riled her up enough, he was now kneeling before her, both hands firmly on her hips. He tugged at her underwear with his teeth, pulling them down so she was exposed to the air and he couldn't even bring himself to smile as she bucked toward him.

Aranea's hands were in his hair, grasping desperately as he worked her into a frenzy against that wall. Her face was tilted toward the ceiling and it took everything ounce of willpower to remain standing while he teased her with his tongue. He couldn't help but salivate over how sweet she tasted while using her moans and cues to learn what she loved.

"My . . . ah . . . can you . . . my boots . . . " she managed to stutter, wanting so badly to be out of her damn shoes. Ignis was enamored with the fact that she could barely put together a single sentence and Aranea looked down at him. "Specs, did you just fucking _smirk_ while between my legs?"

Ignoring her question, he did as she requested, sliding one hand from her hip to the back of her boots, unzipping them slowly. Enticingly. Then, he moved to the other one but immediately pushed her, hard, against the wall again. "No," he demanded between breaths. "Leave them on, if not for a minute longer."

"Oh, have a kink for boots?" she teased.

Ignis didn't answer and Aranea was thankful when he went back to working his magic, drawing another gasp from her as he inserted one finger and then a second into her, crooking them so they pressed against the sensitive soft spot inside of her. She pulled his hair harder than before, her knees weak as his name died on her lips. He felt her tense up, nearing the edge of no return and he stopped, pulling his fingers out and leaning back to regard her with the smuggest look on his face. She wanted to smack it right off him.

Instead, she did one better.

Reaching down, she grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him up so he was standing again and she kissed him, biting, sucking, and licking his lips and chin. It was so arousing to taste herself on him and, judging by the way he was moaning into her, he agreed.

"You don't get to tease me and get away with it," she warned, kicking her boots off and then stripping out of her jeans and underwear so she was completely naked and a solid half a foot shorter than him. With a hand on Ignis' chest, Aranea pushed him backward several steps until the backs of his knees bumped the edge of his bed and she moved him to sit down. With a finger, she brought his chin up so he was looking at her. He was ravenous for her, hands perched on the bed and Aranea was sure she'd never seen the Royal Advisor look so disheveled and salacious. He was a beautiful sight, indeed.

Ignis' hands moved up her arms and he guided her onto the bed with him. As they fell back, Ignis tried to find her lips with his, but she evaded him. It was a game to her right now and he was playing right into it. He could practically _feel_ the heat from her lips, swollen, all because of him. When he stretched up to her, trying once more to capture her in a kiss, she shook her head, her nose rubbing his in a teasing gesture. Instead, she shifted to straddle him, the heat between her legs settled not-so-subtly on his lap.

He tried to say her name. Tried to say something. But she encouraged him to lie back by gently nudging his shoulders down to the bed and he graciously obliged. When he was settled, she rewarded him with the kiss he worked so hard for before, parting his lips with her tongue and rolling her hips into his. When he hissed a beautiful sound of pleasure, she repeated the action again. And again. And again, each time grinding against the erection that pressed against his pants.

Dull fingernails dug into her thighs and she shot up, massaging her hands into his shoulders. "Ignis," she said, "it's not fair; I'm completely naked and you still have your pants on."

"You have hands," he sneered, echoing the words she teased him with when he said the same thing to her at the beginning of their session, "make us equals, then."

Her hair fell around him as she hunched forward to kiss him again. Ignis was almost a little peeved when she withdrew _again_ , but her kiss moved to his neck, the sensitive spot on his collarbone. She kissed his chest, his sides. His abs. Her tongue drew a long line from his belly button to his trousers and she smiled as he shifted under her, his head still set firm in his pillow as he kept his face toward the ceiling. She had barely begun to do a single thing to him and he was already utterly debauched.

Aranea rested her cheek on his thigh, her eyes blown back with lust as she stared at him. She stayed like that for longer than necessary, as evident by Ignis sitting up on his elbows. "Is . . . ah . . . um . . . is something wrong?" he asked, writhing impatiently.

"No." Her hand, before on his knee, was now inching closer to his lap. His arousal. Oh Six, what had he gotten himself into?

"You're Ifrit reincarnated, you know that?" he mumbled, much to Aranea's chagrin.

"Oh, am I? Would Ifrit's reincarnation do . . . this?" she baited, palming him through his pants. Ignis groaned and threw himself back into the bed again, digging the heels of his palms into his eyes. "Sheesh, Specs. I barely touched you! When was the last time you got _any_ action?"

Ignis snarled and that was more than enough for her to keep going. With nimble fingers, she unbuttoned his pants, dragging the zipper down agonizingly slow. Ignis wasn't a man to curse much, but every vulgar and improper word flashed through his mind as he waited for Aranea to finish. When she figured she'd tortured him enough, she tugged at his pants, then his boxer briefs, and finally released his member. "Hm. Looks like I've got my work cut out of me," she giggled, wrapping her hand around him while he shifted to kick his pants off.

When he was completely unclothed, vulnerable to the air, he sat up again on his elbows, though it wouldn't do much as he couldn't see her anyway. It was more of a habit or just something to do until either one made their next move. Another smirk tugged at the corners of Aranea's lips as she watched him. "You know, I meant what I said earlier," she whispered, breath ghosting over the erection in her hand. "About you being hot when you let loose? Well . . . you should see yourself right now, Specs. You look gorgeous."

And, with that, she took as much as she could in her mouth and Ignis threw himself back onto the mattress, grasping for purchase as she bobbed her head up and down. Sure, he'd been starved for touch. Affection. Whatever. But, he'd never realized just _how_ starved he was until this moment. This felt . . . Gods, could anything else feel as good as this? Her mouth sucking and humming on him, tongue flicking just right. He should've felt embarrassed at how _free_ he felt, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Ignis was pretty sure he heard himself say her name, but he wasn't sure anymore what was real and what was just lust playing with his mind. The sheets bunched in his fists and he was vaguely aware of Aranea telling him to stop keeping quiet. So, he did as she requested and let go, allowing himself to moan a little louder. Curse a little more. With every mewling cry and every shout of unabashed pleasure, she took him deeper and played with him more.

If someone tried to ask him his name, where he was from, or what today's date was, he'd be clueless. Every thought, every fleeting contemplation, was focused on this moment.

He could have finished right then and there and Astrals did he want to, but he wasn't ready. With a harsh tap to her shoulder, he gasped for air as she stopped, confused. "Aranea, please. I . . . let me . . . "

Except, he didn't want to finish the sentence. He wanted to show her just what he needed from her. As she'd done prior when he kneeled in front of her, he reached down to grab her by the arms, pulling her up while at the same time moving gracefully—if he did say so himself—to settle on top of her between her legs. He was holding himself over her, hands on either side of her head.

"What is it you want?" she needled, her nails grazing from the top of his back, down to his ass and grabbing it without a single care. His eyes pinched shut and his mouth opened in a silent moan. Nails again down his back. Another thing—love marks—he would normally abhor but couldn't find it within himself to be concerned with that right now. In fact, he welcomed it. He almost _wanted_ Aranea to mark him. Possess him. Make him hers.

_Almost_ wanted it?

Oh, who was he kidding?

He was an absolute wreck for the woman under him right now.

"I . . . Aranea, I don't know how long . . . look, I hope you're not expecting—"

"Hey, Ignis?" His arms were beginning to shake at the weight he was putting on them and he tried to ignore it. Then, he heard the sweetest words, though crude, he ever thought he'd hear in his life. "Shut up, and please fuck me."

And he did. He sunk into her and they both moaned to the Gods above. As soon as he was inside of her, the warmth enveloping him, he lowered all his weight onto her and laid sloppy kisses over her once more. Her jaw, her lips. Her sharp cheekbones. He wished on everything that he could see what she looked like right now. It wasn't fair. It was downright cruel that he was relegated to a life of darkness, unable to see the one whom his heart sang for, but he'd negate that with every kiss. Every breath. Every brush and touch of his lips to every square inch of her would create a new image for him that he would commit to memory.

They moved rhythmically. She met his every thrust and allowed him to direct her hands above her on the pillow, interlacing fingers. Perspiration was forming on their brows, between their chests, making every movement slick. Hot. More than they could handle.

He was enjoying this, shocked that he'd lasted this long, but suddenly he was up on his knees all because Aranea pushed him up. She was quick, kneeling as well and breathing in his ear as she bit his earlobe. "Let's go to the wall."

"You don't—?" he was learning real quick that Aranea knew exactly what she wanted in the bedroom and he gave silent thanks to all six of the Gods for blessing him tonight.

She had him by the hand and dragged him to the nearest wall from his bed. With her hands on the disgusting blue wallpaper and ass sticking out, she faced the wall eagerly. Ignis wasted no time, running his hands down her back and between her legs as he found her, hot and waiting. He didn't want to play around anymore though, and neither did she. So, he lined himself up and thrust into her, bringing his hands to her breasts to stimulate her even more. She cried out in pure ecstasy and wouldn't stop. Couldn't stop. This was just too good, Ignis fucking her against the wall.

"Darling, say my name," he pleaded, hoarse and with desperate want.

Aranea obliged, whining and crying his name so loud, they'd both be surprised if all of Lestallum hadn't heard it. Ignis went wild, thrilled that she wasn't a silent lover. Something about her flagrantly screaming his name drove him crazy. He asked her to say it again and, with wild abandon, she did so while pushing back against him, creating more friction and tension. Her nails scraped against the wall while he dug into her hips hard enough to leave bruises.

They were so close, both of them. Near the tipping point. There was so much more Ignis wanted to do, but it was a losing battle to his ever-throbbing member still inside of Aranea. He didn't want to wait anymore. He couldn't.

With a bite on her shoulder, he stopped and threw her back to the bed, climbing on top of her as she arched into him. Ignis stayed, hovering over her, and he smiled. Aranea frowned and narrowed her eyes. "What? What are you waiting for? You get me all riled up with that and then stare at me with that weird look?"

Ignis kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, and then her lips. "I'm a lucky man tonight to be able to finally have you. All of you. I love you," he said, shocking Aranea to hear it again. But she knew exactly what he meant and pulled him down to her, another long and slow kiss to show what he meant to her. They made love, their kisses growing ever lazier and, yet, still romantic. They were one being—one entity. Nothing could come between them.

Aranea started to tense up as Ignis hit the sweet spot inside of her, over and over again. She wasn't sure how much longer she'd last, but she was trying to hold out for him. The look on his face told her that he was so enthralled with this and she didn't want to take that away from him. Not yet. But, ever the observant one, Ignis slowed down and brought his face closer to hers. "My love, don't hold back on account of me. This is as much for you as it is for me."

Nodding, Aranea surrendered her will to toe the edge of her peak. With a few more well-timed thrusts and his hands in the right places, Ignis could feel Aranea shudder under him, muscles rippling and nails clawing down his back as she came undone, repeating his name brashly. Working her through her orgasm, Ignis chased his release as well, stars exploding behind his eye as he moaned and whimpered into her mouth while finishing.

Boneless and spent, he collapsed onto Aranea, melting into her and listening to her heartbeat as it slowed. Her hands were in his hair and her nails were scratching along his shoulder blades and upper back, goosebumps appearing across his entire body. The after-effects of his orgasm left every part of his body incredibly sensitive and he was enjoying the beauty of the moment.

Ignis leaned up once more and kissed her softly, without tongue this time. At some point in time, he managed to get up and get the necessary items to clean themselves up. But, once that was done, Ignis crawled back in bed and pulled Aranea close, wrapping his arms around her tight abdomen, her muscles hard against him. One more kiss. One more tight squeeze.

He tried to stay awake, but his eyes were far too heavy to stay open anymore. Ignis drifted off to sleep with Aranea in his arms.

 

* * *

 

 

Ignis stirred, entangled in sheets that clung to him.

Sheets?

Just sheets?

The events of the night came back to him in a flurry of conjured images and he smiled. It wasn't a dream. Ignis had made passionate love to Aranea after finally confessing how he felt about her and they'd fallen asleep, wrapped up in limbs in a post-coital haze.

Turning over, he reached to the other side of the bed for Aranea, wanting to feel her. Hold her closer. Brush her hair from her neck and shoulders so he could wake her up with kisses and love bites. Instead, his fingers skirted a few folded and wrinkled pieces of paper scattered where she surely should have been lying, but that was all. Alarmed, he shot up and felt around for her, but it was true. The bed was still warm, but she was gone.

Ignis felt the rising anxiety burn his chest and distort his thoughts. With shaking fingers, he picked up one of sheets of paper and fought the urge to tear it up or crumple it. Instead, he tossed the paper aside and snorted. This was a cruel, sick game that Aranea was playing—sleeping with him and then leaving him a goodbye note that he couldn't read. How ridiculous was he to think that she would ever truly fall for him, only using him for a quick fuck and bolting before he could even wake up?

Gods, she had played him for a fool.

Then, a clearing of her throat. "Looking for me, Specs?"

Ignis whipped his head toward the kitchen, stunned to hear Aranea's voice standing in the entryway. "You didn't . . . you're still here? "

Her feet padded on the carpet and she came to the empty side of the bed, nudging his shoulder with a hot mug of something. It smelled like coffee, probably from his birthday gift. Tentatively, he took it with his jaw slightly dropped, still unbelieving of the fact that she hadn't left. She was here and he'd been so quick to assume the worst. The weirdest mix of guilt, elation, and relief surged through him, but he could only sit there and smile like an idiot.

When the cup was secured in his hand, Aranea scrambled into bed beside him, hugging her own mug to her chest while she cuddled close to his side. "What? You didn't think I'd _actually_ leave you after last night, did you? Damn, you think that little of me?"

"You weren't in bed," he said dumbly as she ran her foot up and down his leg.

"I wanted some coffee. Didn't want to wake you or anything because you looked so damn relaxed for once. Did you know you have no worry lines when you're sleeping? I didn't think it was possible, but you don't. Oh, and you look about 5 years younger too."

Her fingers were tracing exactly where the creases would appear on his face when he was stressed, but they were nonexistent right now—a testament to how calm he was just sitting in bed with her at this moment. Then, they reappeared when he remembered waking up to the empty bed. "But . . . the papers?"

"Oh, ha. Yeah, those were the letters you kept in your nightstand. I got bored and wanted to see if you had any porno magazines or anything, but apparently, you're such a romantic that all I found were those damn letters." Ignis tilted his head and Aranea smiled. "What? I wanted to see what I wrote you, again. Call me sentimental."

He still hadn't touched his coffee as he tried to wrap his mind around the fact that Aranea was here. In bed. With him. He was still nude and she . . . _wasn't?_ She was definitely wearing something, the fabric pressed into his side and against his arm.

Scrunching his nose in mock annoyance, Ignis asked, "Are you wearing my shirt?", to which Aranea hummed a soft noise to signal a confirmation. While he held the cup of coffee in one hand, he let his other hand trail up her thigh to where the edge of the shirt fell, passed her hips where he so lovingly noted she was still without her underwear, up her side and stopped when she giggled at his touch. Apparently, she was a little ticklish, twisting away from his fingers.

"It's more comfortable than me putting back on those damn jeans of mine and the tank top. So not overnight wear."

When she deemed it safe to curl back into his side, she moved back over and rested her head on his shoulder while he sat back against the headboard of the bed. They enjoyed the coffee in peace, Ignis sometimes pausing to kiss the top of Aranea's head. Everything felt as it should. What had taken them so long to get here? It was sweet and beautiful and oh so right.

The fact that Aranea had been looking at her letters again stayed on his mind. "Aranea," Ignis began, "what _did_ your last letter say?"

She pursed her lips, swirling the coffee in her mug to keep herself occupied. "Why?"

"Well, something that weighed on my mind a lot since that night was the fact that you were home. There was no reason for you to hand over a letter at that point to alert me of your safety as you were standing right there with me in the kitchen. Perhaps I'm reading too far into things, but I have to wonder if there was something more in that letter that you, somehow, wanted me to know."

The silence stretched on and she continued to find swirling her coffee hypnotic. Ignis allowed her as much time as she needed, knowing that conversation and emotions were not the woman's strong suit. Finally, she took a deep breath and placed her mug on the nightstand. "I can . . . if you want, I can read it to you."

With a subtle nod, Ignis listened as she shifted over to snatch up one of the few unopened envelopes, dragging her finger across the top so that she could extract the letter from it.

There were a few half-hearted complaints and some proverbial dragging of the feet, but Aranea unfolded the letter and took a deep breath.

" _My dearest Ignis,"_ she began, voice quivering as nerves threatened to overtake her determination to read. " _It has been almost nine months since I've seen your face, but who's counting anymore? Without you here, there's no purpose. No meaning to anything I do. It's hard waking up, not knowing if today will be my last day on this gods-forsaken planet. Not knowing if I'll return to you to confess what's in my heart. We lost a man on our team a couple of weeks ago, so forgive me, but death is weighing heavy on my mind._

_Do you remember, way back when we were still so young when I camped with you and your friends? You cooked for me and forgave me for almost killing you guys. You smiled at me and I think I had a hunch then that I knew. I didn't want to admit it, but I think I knew then what I've only tried to deny ever since.  
_

_You're too good for me. You always have been. But now? You haven't seen what this world has done to people, but I have. In a fucked-up way, you got to maintain that chaste innocence and, as a result, you've stayed one of the good ones. I've already lost one man in my life that I loved with all my heart—I'm not sure I can do that again, were anything to happen to you. You're strong, you're brave, you're badass at what you do . . . but I'm not stupid to think you or I could die in this stupid dark world. I'm a coward, I know._

_I suppose writing all of this in a letter when I know you'll never be able to read it is a shit-move on my part, but I can't bring myself to voice these things out loud to you. Please, Ignis, if I ever find the courage to admit everything in here, I pray to the gods (if they even listen to that bullshit) that you protect my heart. Protect us. Because, honestly, I'm not sure I'm strong enough to do that on my own."_

At this point, Aranea looked up to see Ignis had placed his mug to the side and had draped his arm behind her, comforting her by holding her closer. He nudged her to continue but made it a little harder when he placed his head on her shoulder, kissing her neck and shoulder blade affectionately.

" _I can't wait to finally get home to you. Maybe I won't be so stupid and I can finally tell you all these things to your face. Maybe. I don't know. I'm rambling now. I should just write it here. Ugh, why is this . . . ok. I love . . . I . .—"_

The words almost left her mouth, written out on the paper in front of her, but Ignis had distracted her with his lips again. She turned into his arms, her lips parting as they kissed gently. Forgotten, the letter fell to the ground as he pulled her on top of him.

She didn't need to say the words.

It was obvious she'd loved him for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I have a lot I want to say, and honestly I had an entire thing written out, but I think maybe I'll let you guys tell me what you thought :)


	18. Angelguard

**Water Under the Bridge  
Angelguard**

_"So then, I said I wanted to take Cindy out sometime because she's the angel of my dreams and stuff, but then—"_

_"Prompto, shut up. Hush! . . . Do you hear that?"_

_"_ _Um . . . did I hear what?"_

_"SHHHHH . . . I hear something . . . it sounds like it's coming from . . . "_

_"Oh fuck. Dude . . . Gladio, that's Aranea's voice. In our bedroom."_

_"Holy fuck."_

_"_ _SHIT DUDE THAT'S IGGY AND ARANEA IN OUR ROOM. Dude! Your plan worked! You totally called it! But . . . well, fuck! Now they're in_ our _room, and it doesn't sound like they're gonna be done anytime soon."_

_"Well, what do we do? We can't cockblock and sleep there tonight."_

_"There's no cockblocking for this; they're already in the middle of whatever the fuck it is they're in the middle of."_

_"Sex, Prompto. It's called sex."_

_"Ughhhhh, no! Don't say that! Ignis doesn't_ have _sex! He doesn't know how, ok? . . . UGH! I don't want to hear him moaning her name anymore! We gotta get out of here."_

_"Oh, yeah? And where do you think we should go?_ Some _of us have to get some sleep so we can be on daemon duty for the next few days. I mean, you think Cor and Talcott have space in their room for us?"_

_"Hell no, their room is like two doors down from ours. We're in the fucking lobby and can hear those two going at it. I practically hear his balls slapping against her! No way, I'm not going to get_ any _sleep if we stay with Cor and Talcott. Fuck it, let's see if Cid's still up. Maybe he has a spare couch or something."_

_". . . Not a bad idea. We can give Iggy hell for this in the morning, or next time we see him."_

_"Yeah, he definitely deserves some shit for making us look for somewhere else to sleep."_

* * *

 

Cid thought maybe he'd be able to fix up the boat in a week, tops. Unfortunately, time and neglect wore the vessel down more than any of them could imagine and it would take some in-depth muscle work and a hunt or two for a new part to get it running again.

When he received the bad news that it would take two months at least—maybe sooner if Talcott was willing to put in longer hours to help, Ignis feigned disappointment. If he _had_ to wait, then that's the way it had to be. He threw his hands in the air and sauntered off, his face twisted into a look of dejection that they would have to wait until the boat was fixed before anything more could happen with their studies.

Secretly, he was happy that this meant more time with Aranea.

Since their night of passion, they were damn near inseparable. If he was coming back from the rare case that he was on daemon duty lately, Aranea was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs in the Levelle lobby, ready to ravage him right there if he'd let her. If she was pouring over paperwork at the desk in her bedroom, Ignis' hands would just so happen to find themselves on her shoulders, under her shirt, carded through her hair. On the off chance that they both were free, Aranea would suggest they hone their lance and spear skills in the field where she used to spar with him, but it usually ended with them disheveled and panting as they threw their weapons aside in favor of a passionate make-out session that would quickly spiral into an explicit tryst against a tree.

In between the moments that they couldn't keep their hands off each other, they were laughing and talking about everything under the metaphorical sun. They shared coffee, Aranea would read the book she gave him for his birthday, and they'd sit or lie there in each other's arms, just enjoying the company. It was like the night of his birthday had destroyed the final brick in the wall between them and, without either one saying it, they were an official item.

Of course, this did not come without teasing from Prompto and Gladio.

"Heeeyyy . . . what's that on your neck, Iggy?" Prompto pointed out, a finger poking hard into the muscle of Ignis' neck as he stood over the stove, cooking a meal to bring to Aranea after a long day of work.

"Hmmm . . . that looks like a bruise, Prompto," Gladio chided from behind, sneering over his shoulder.

Ignis felt the familiar flush of embarrassment and irascibility heat the apples of his cheeks and spread down the back of his neck. Prompto knew he hit a nerve and twisted his finger deeper into the mark. "I think it's more than a bruise, Gladio . . . I would say that looks like a—"

"Alright, you two," Ignis yelled over their tongue-in-cheek banter, rolling his shoulder enough so that Prompto's hand was knocked away. The irritation of the two friends laughing at Ignis' love mark was enough for him to just throw the pan that he was cooking with down and storm out, but he didn't. He continued to man the stove patiently, counting minutes in his head and smelling the aroma of meat and vegetables in the room.

"Hey, Prompto! Do you think Aranea makes Iggy her bitch in the bedroom?"

"Oh, without a doubt! Have you not heard their screams in the bedroom? I swear, I've never heard Ignis moan so loud in my enti—"

Ignis now whirled around, spatula in hand, forcefully smacking the two out of the kitchen. "Will you two _shut. Up. Now?_ "

"Iggy, it's _perfectly natural_ to have a sex life!" Gladio sneered, landing a firm hand on Ignis' shoulder before he was shoved away again.

"Yes, but I'd rather keep my sex life private and away from you two if that's alright?" he scowled, eye narrowed and teeth clenched.

Prompto was now sitting on the edge of Ignis' bed, still laughing. "It's a little hard to keep something like that private when you have hickeys on your neck and you two are screaming each other's names loud enough that we can hear it in the lobby!"

"We do not!" Ignis decried, though he knew it just reaffirmed the inevitable truth. At this point, his normally pale face was as red as scarlet and he tried frantically to keep his focus on the food before him, but it was so hard when his two best friends were giggling and taunting him just feet away.

The laughter faded for only a second before Prompto whispered under his breath: "I bet she wears her heels in bed."

"I bet she ties Iggy up and has her way with him."

"He likes it."

"Oh, no shit, he likes it! You've heard the way he screams her name," Gladio chortled, moving on the bed suggestively, acting out what he was saying. "' _Oh, Aranea! Yes, right there! Oh, Gods yes! Fuck me, please! I need you!_ '"

Prompto devolved into a fit of giggles, high-fiving the man while Ignis did a horrible job of pretending to ignore them. It's true, he had become quite loud in the bedroom and, no, he wouldn't change a single thing when it came to his and Aranea's sex life, but he still loathed the fact that Gladio and Prompto found every opportunity to rag on him for it. With a loud huff, he took the stir-fry off the stove and divided the food between two plates, reaching under him into a drawer for some aluminum foil to cover it on the trip down the hall.

Carrying plate in either hand, Ignis condescendingly glided from the kitchen, through the common area, and to the front door. He felt Prompto and Gladio's judging and focused eyes on him the entire time as he fumbled with the doorknob, finally pulling the door open to the brightly-lit hallway. With a surge of hostility, Ignis throw a glare over his shoulder and said, "You are just envious that I'm good at _everything_ I do . . . including my bedroom activities."

It was supposed to throw them off and shut them up, but it only aroused more cheers and encouragements as Ignis rolled his eye and strutted out the door, letting it click loudly behind him as he walked down the hall to Aranea's bedroom.

He knew that she was home tonight. She'd been gone the last two days and a quick phone call from her alerted him that she would be waiting in her room for him to stop by. At some point in the midst of their ever-hastening relationship, they'd exchanged keys with each other on the off-chance that either one wanted to stop in and visit for a bit.

It was this key that Ignis used, balancing both plates on one forearm, to gain entry into Aranea's room. Iris would be out for the next night or so, slowly but surely getting back into the swing of things after her injury in Meldacio.

Upon entering her room, Ignis heard the sound of water running in the bathroom to his immediate right while steam billowed under the crack of the door. Knowing exactly where the nearest table was (Aranea gave Ignis a very detailed guided tour so he could move freely about, without worry of bumping or running into anything), Ignis set the two plates of food down, took his shoes off, and knocked on the bathroom door. Not a peep was heard, so he took his chances and opened the door, only to be assaulted by shower mist and humidity. "Aranea?" he called out, one foot still outside the bathroom in case he was mistaken.

There was the sharp sound of the shower curtain pulled aside and he couldn't help the smile that curled the edges of his lips as Aranea exclaimed his name in surprise. "Fuck, Ignis; I would have gotten ready earlier had I know you would be here so soon!" she reprimanded, the water still running as she stepped out. He felt her soaking wet hand on his arm, pulling him earnestly toward the tub. "But, now that you're here . . ." her voice trailed off as she hinted what's to come. "The water's still hot, after all."

"My love, I'm still dressed," he tried to protest, only half-heartedly pulling away from her but secretly loving how she didn't want to wait a single second to have him. It didn't take much for his resolve to crumble when it came to Aranea, stepping into the shower with her, clothes and all.

Immediately, her hands were all over him, peeling his gray t-shirt, soaked from standing under the showerhead, up over his body and onto the shower floor. Though only two days had passed, Aranea kissed him as if a million years had passed since her lips were on his. Ignis pulled his gloves off faster than he'd ever done before, tossing them somewhere behind him so that he could feel her body with his bare hands. He smirked as she leaned in, his name stifled by her burying her mouth into the crook of his neck.

"I missed you," she rasped, nails raking down his back to his pants. It was a far cry from the Aranea that Ignis had gotten to know over the last several years; the one that kept her heart closed off and guarded. They were having fun; carefree, innocent, but carnal and sensual all the same.

"I . . . Aranea, I made you dinner," he protested through kisses and gasps while she groped at his belt and pants, palming him roughly and smiling as he panted at her touch.

The water cascaded around them as they stood under the spray of the shower. Ignis pushed aside how uncomfortable, heavy, and tight his pants were getting as they took on more water, in favor of Aranea's firm touches and sharp nails. He may have snubbed Prompto and Gladio for noticing the hickey on his neck, but he'd ask Aranea to mark him again and again if it meant a lifetime of her in his arms like this.

"Dinner can wait. Unless _you_ are on the menu," she breathed, her full lips tugging at his earlobe and her tongue licking along the shell of his ear. Gently, he allowed her to guide him against the tile of the shower wall. Ignis couldn't deny that he was absolute putty in her hands when she used _that_ tone. He'd do anything for her.

"You . . . um . . . but you need to . . . ahhh . . . you need to . . . "

"No, what I need is you. Right here. Right now."

Well, if she insisted.

He was done objecting. With a curt nod, his eye rolled into the back of his head as she finally managed to worm him out of his pants and underwear—socks included. He wanted to tell her that she _really_ needed to eat, if only to keep her strength up, but the words died in his throat as she kissed her way down his chest, abs, sides, and hips, all the way to his member, hard and waiting for her.

The tile felt cool on his back, a stark contrast against the warm steam and water that enveloped the pair in that shower. He leaned back and allowed her to take him in her mouth, moaning sweet nothings into the air as he threaded his fingers through her wet hair, gasping as she hummed on him, soft vibrations causing him to quiver involuntarily.

It would never get old, her lips on every exposed inch of him. For a while, he played nice and innocent, careful to not hurt her while they engaged in sexual acts, but it was never enough for her. Or, for him. Gradually, they learned that they loved the passionate hair pulls and the biting of the skin. The dirty talk. The scratching and needling until the other was almost ready to cave and cry 'uncle'.

He didn't _plan_ on being seduced by the Commodore when he came into her room tonight. Honestly, he really intended to just bring her some dinner and maybe catch up before they fell asleep for the night, but he wasn't complaining as her tongue ran along his length and her hands found their way up his stomach, tracing the lines of his muscles that were his abs. His hips rocked and he tugged at her hair to keep himself from sliding down the tile to the floor. Every sensation and every thought were narrowed to what Aranea was doing to him and she laughed at how ruined he'd become within minutes.

Ignis felt the heat pool in his stomach, on the very brink of coming undone. Every sensual touch and every drag of her tongue threatened to push him over the edge. He tensed, his body tight and rigid, but Aranea stopped and withdrew. She stood up, breasts pressed against his chest and Ignis couldn't help the low groan of disappointment as she laced her fingers with his. "You're wicked," he bristled, letting go of her hands while his fingers found their way up her arms, across her back, digging and trailing harsh red marks all over her body.

"Oh, come on now, you know I'm not _that_ wicked. Now that I've got your appetite worked up, want to finish this in the bedroom? That is," she pulled back and brushed his hair away, wet and clinging to his forehead, "unless you'd _rather_ just eat that food that you prepared for me."

"Fuck the food," Ignis admonished, reaching behind her to shut the water off and whisking her away to the bedroom as she shrieked and laughed playfully.

* * *

 

Two months later, Cid, with Talcott's help, had the boat ready to go. At some point in that week, Aranea picked up what was assumed to be a stomach virus of some sort. She couldn't keep anything down and it took every last bit of her energy to drag herself out of bed every day. Ignis insisted that she stay behind, if for nothing else than to have access to whatever type of medical care she'd need, but she was adamant in coming with—This was important to him and, in turn, it was important to her. After some intense arguing and some angry words, Ignis gave in and allowed her to join them. They all piled into the truck and drove down to Galdin Quay with the boat in tow.

As Talcott drove with Cid in the passenger seat, Ignis kept a careful ear out to Aranea beside him in the backseat, waiting for any hint or tipoff that she was going to be sick again. The lack of music and conversation in the truck was unnerving, but he held Aranea's hand across the bench seats, his thumb rubbing across the top of her hand and her knuckles. He wanted to ask if she was feeling ok, but the last time he did—only the millionth time—she told him to shut up and stop asking.

Illness didn't suit her well, Ignis thought cynically.

They reached the Quay with no incident and, lucky enough for them, there were no daemons to contend with as Talcott backed the truck down to the dock and in the water enough for them to unlatch the boat successfully. Without a word and barely a game plan in mind ('Let us get to the island, grab what we need, and get out,' was the only thing that Ignis could think of), Cid powered the yacht to life and the four crossed the water to the infamous Angelguard Prison. It wasn't a far distance, but the island was distant enough that they could settle in to have a conversation going.

"It's just interesting to me that Ardyn would _want_ us to look more into his history," Talcott chatted idly, standing under the awning with his arms crossed while Ignis had taken a seat on the cushioned bench in front of him. Aranea stayed taciturn, her eyes fixed on the horizon in the distance.

Pushing his glasses up farther on the bridge of his nose, Ignis waved a hand nonchalantly. "It makes me wonder just what he wants us to find. There has to be more than just his lineage that he's leading us to. I'm as perplexed as you are. Regardless, we must be quick. Grab whatever we can find. Take notes—"

Gagging and dry-heaving stopped the conversation when Aranea rushed from her seat to the side of the boat. Ignis was immediately on his feet, the look of pure apprehension all over his face. He heard her throwing up into the water. "Aranea?"

"I'm . . . "More vomiting, coughing, and heavy breathing. "Fuck, I'm ok. Probably seasick."

The water _was_ a lot choppier than it would have been if this trip had taken place before darkness settled in, but it wasn't anything that Ignis thought she couldn't handle. He felt so guilty, though he was the one that urged her to stay behind. It didn't assuage any of his remorse.

"Ya'll alright back there?" Cid called out over his shoulder, his voice carried by the wind.

Ignis was now at Aranea's side, one hand on her forehead to check for a fever and the other hand holding her hair back from getting in the way of her retching. Talcott reassured the old man that everything was ok, but they all overheard Cid mumbling something about how she should have stayed behind if she was so sick and how she was merely a hindrance right now.

"Fuck off, asshole," she hissed under her breath. Ignis raised an eyebrow, but said nothing and continued to stand by her with a hand on her back.

She stayed put at the boat's edge even until they slowed in front of the shoreline of the menacing natural structure. The craft sputtered and Cid navigated it to a point where they could jump out without getting too wet.

"You kids go on and do your thing; I'll wait here for you to get back. Sound good?" Cid asked, but it was more of a declaration than anything.

With a hand on Aranea's elbow to steady her, Ignis nodded his acquiescence. "Sounds good. We'll be quick. Hopefully an in-and-out job."

Through her nausea, Aranea tittered. "Ha, that's what she said."

"Charming." An eye roll, then Ignis motioned for Talcott to lead the way, listening for his footsteps a means to get around while still holding Aranea's arm. She tried to shrug him off, but he just held on tighter. It was evident by the look on his face that he was concerned about her wellbeing.

They trudged through the beach grass, sand moving under their shoes, up the worn and weathered stone steps to a small shack—a stone structure at the top of a very sandy hill, beat to hell by the elements. Talcott 'oohed' and 'ahhed' at the building while Ignis let go of his lover and took off his gloves, reaching out to touch the slime and age of the stones. Algae, salt, the occasional bug. He felt it all and it sent chills down his spine.

He'd done so much research as a child and young adult about this place, but it was surreal that he was here now. On his back, Aranea's hand splayed in a loving gesture, yet she was still weak. Ignis turned to her and forced a smile, but it lacked the strength and charm of his usual smiles. They were so close to their goal, but it was terrifying knowing what they may, or may not, find.

One at a time, they filtered into the building and crammed into what Ignis assumed as a one-bedroom-esque type of place. He attempted to move around, but he found he bumped into a cold wall here, a makeshift stone bed there. He shivered, but from fear or just the atmosphere, he wasn't sure. This place was chilling, but fitting for what they were here for. He almost let a snort escape him at the fact that the most villainous of people—Ardyn—led them here.

Fitting.

Ignis shook his head to clear his mind, remembering they were here on a mission. "It doesn't seem like we have much ground to cover, so just check every nook and cranny. As much as I hate to admit it, I don't think the Chancellor would send us here for no reason. There's _something_ here he wants us to find."

"Either that or the motherfucker wants us dead and it's a trap."

"Thanks for that, darling," Ignis hissed sarcastically, only to receive a shrug in return. "Anyway, let's rifle around; see what we can scope out?"

"Yes, sir!" Talcott saluted, immediately looking for something for them to go on. Aranea, on the other hand, was less enthusiastic and regrettably moved away from Ignis' side. The advisor remained at the entrance of the prison, fingers tracing along the stone and grout. His mind wandered, thoughts running rampant about how lonely it would be to live here and feeling sympathy for the person unlucky enough to be stranded here. Did that person feel as terrified and isolated as he felt behind his clouded eyes and scars? Blind, with no way out? Scared and sequestered from everything they knew and loved?

He heard Talcott cry out in pain and it brought him back to reality. "Ack," he said. "Don't try to reach behind the desk. Nearly got my hand stuck!"

"Duly noted," Aranea said dryly, her hands moving in the corners of the small and damp room.

While they continued, Ignis frowned. He wanted to help so bad, and he could have. How hard was it to just run a hand on the ground? In a corner? Up the back of some stone bed? He could have, but he felt paralyzed. Once they found this, it meant really delving into and understanding the hells of the world.

Maybe that was taking it too far. They were here for Ardyn Izunia, after all. Still, Ignis believed there was more to this. It was more than that. Ardyn was playing a game and Ignis was determined to beat him at it. After all the mind games, the psychological manipulation, the wondering and the guessing, Ignis _needed_ to push past his fears and inhibitions.

With a cautious step, he knelt and held a hand out, running it along the underside of some sort of concrete table. When that led to no leads, he got lower and reached as far as he could until his fingers touched what he could only assume was the stone wall of the shack.

Nothing.

A sigh and he leaned back, crawling around to the edge of the table, repeating the process.

Nothing.

Always nothing.

This went on for another five minutes, give or take, before Ignis rolled his eye and crouched down on the balls of his feet, annoyed.

Then, an idea.

"Wait," he held a hand up. "The Chancellor didn't say that the information would be _inside_ the Prison, correct?"

Without looking up, Aranea continued to flash a light into another crevasse. "Uh, no, I guess not? He just said whatever information you wanted, it was here on this island. So, I guess it could be anywhere."

Ignis stood up, his legs tingling from lack of circulation from squatting down for so long. "If I may, I'd like to examine the perimeter of the building."

Talcott blinked, but Aranea waved her hand—though it was a lazy wave as she was fighting another round of nausea. "Sure, Specs," she dismissed, but with a different tone than he was used to. Loving? Warm? Affectionate? He smiled all the same. "We'll just be in here. Can't be much ground to cover, right?"

A nod and he carefully stepped down the stone stairs he'd remembered about coming in. He smelled the saline air and heard the rough waves crash against the shore. The grass, overgrown and unruly, tickled his arms. As strange as the scenario was, he found the entire thing bizarrely serene. It brought him back to the time where he first came to Galdin Quay. They were driving down the coastline; the resort was just ahead. Gladio observed quietly from the back seat, while Prompto and Noctis excitedly detailed what they would do as soon as the car was parked by the beachside.

Ignis' breathing hitched at the memory.

Gods, did he miss Noctis.

While kicking his feet around along the outer edges of the prison, Ignis let his thoughts drift back to his charge. His Prince. His friend. Where the hell was he? What was he doing? Surely, he wasn't dead, as Ignis was still able to summon his own weapons. He had to be ok, as Ignis and Gladio had done everything in their power to ensure he'd be successful in life, as the heir to the throne and Future King to Insomnia.

He missed the times they'd sneak out together late in the night back in Insomnia, and then stealthily moving through the hallways when they returned before the sun came up. He missed the way that Noctis would eye him every time he was asked to eat his vegetables, disdain and fury emanating from every pore of the Prince's being. More than anything, he missed the comfortable silence, the contagious laughter, and his childhood friend. It hurt more than he ever let on that Noctis was gone and no one knew when he'd come back. Life had gone on without him, but he was still everywhere all the same.

Ignis wanted to reintroduce Aranea to him as the woman he fell in love with. He wanted Noctis there when he would ask for her hand in marriage, standing by his side when vows are exchanged. It was a huge hope that maybe Noctis would be his future children's godparent, and Ignis trusted him wholeheartedly with that title. As much as he loved Aranea and lived for every waking moment with her, there was also the other part of Ignis that pined for the day that Noctis would return so they could all go about their lives happily, reintegrating with each other with the sun finally shining high over them.

The wind blew his hair and Ignis almost thought that everything was sunny and happy in Eos—almost. He kicked his shoes under the sand, along the edges of the shack. A few rocks, here and there, but then he nearly kicked something bigger. It wasn't a shell or a rock.

It was a book, nestled outside in the back of the Prison.

At least, that's what he thought it was.

"Talcott! Aranea! Come, look at this!" he exclaimed, brushing aside dirt and sand to pull the object from the ground. Some stumbling steps and Aranea and Talcott were at his side as he proudly held up . . . well, whatever it was.

Talcott took it delicately and flipped through the pages. He let out a hearty guffaw. "Well, this may be what we came here for!"

"Seriously? We came all this way for a book?" Aranea grumbled, her face still ghost-white after her nausea episode from the boat.

"Woah, not just any book, guys; Ignis, this is _the_ book. He—the Chancellor—wasn't kidding. I mean, this thing is all about the Izunia lineage! Pictures, old notes . . . this is legit!"

"Are you certain?"

"Yes. Very. I can't . . . I mean damn! This is so interest—"

Aranea cut Talcott off, annoyed and exhausted. "This is great and all guys, but the old man's still waiting for us at the boat and I'm ready to head out. So, can we go now?"

Ignis wished he could see Aranea, if just to properly assess how ill she was. Her voice alone told him she was sicker than she was letting on, but she was trying to hide it. Maybe to keep his worries at bay? Either way, it was a horrible ruse and Ignis was not buying into it. He stepped aside for Talcott to walk ahead, following close behind with a hand resting supportively on the small of Aranea's back.

The ride back to the mainland wasn't as eventful, but Aranea kept quiet for most of it. Ignis kept an ear in her direction, waiting for her to get sick again. Luckily, she did not and they made it back to land and jumped out of the boat one at a time with Cid poised to throw the rope out to moor the vessel to land.

Ignis had difficulty tying the rope off in such a way that the yacht wouldn't float away, so he beckoned for Cid to come assist him. Aranea stood indolently behind the two men and Talcott paced back and forth, scanning page after page of the book in his hand.

Talcott took his eyes off the pages for one second, his face falling and his steps ceasing. "Uhhh, guys? GUYS?"

Up ahead, a group of daemons surrounded the entrance of the resort and were quickly closing in on the four. Cid smacked Ignis' hand away from the ropes, alerting him to the dangers before them without saying a word. Ignis heard the shrieks and wails of the daemons and immediately went into defense mode, the rope slipping from his hands into the water beneath them.

"Get to the truck, now! Just run!"

"But the boat?" Talcott alerted to no one in particular.

"Fuck the boat, boy! We need to get out of here! No, don't bother tethering it; we don't have the time! Let's go!"

Ignis heard the waves begin to pull the Caelum yacht away from the docks, while at the same time Talcott and Cid's footsteps were pounding on the wood under them, charging toward the truck still parked at the front of the docks. Ignis began to follow, but he didn't hear Aranea behind him.

"Go, seriously, I'll be fine," she yelled out over the commotion. He immediately knew that she had begun to throw up again, one hand on the wooden pillar while she leaned over the raucous waters.

Ignis stood between Talcott and Cid yelling for them and Aranea vomiting into the ocean, tears pricking the corners of her eyes. His knee-jerk reaction had him grabbing her, unfazed by her gagging in his ear while she pressed her hands to her mouth. He carried her the entire way, praying that he wouldn't smack headlong into the truck. Luckily, Talcott had started it and Ignis used the sound to judge how much farther he had to run with a sick, protesting Aranea in his arms.

He flung the backseat door open and threw Aranea in, jumping in and slamming the door while urging Talcott to gun it to safety. The wheels spun out but finally gained traction and they were all thrown back into their seats as Talcott sped right at the daemons. The smaller ones were easy road bumps; the larger ones, however, scratched and clawed at the truck as they passed, yet couldn't stop them as they powered over the hills and onto the paved road, speeding home to Lestallum while the boat drifted away from land.

* * *

 

"Aranea, this stomach flu has gone on long enough. When will you allow me to take you to the infirmary?"

Iris stood in the doorway of her and Aranea's bathroom, arms crossed, while Ignis held Aranea's hair back for the umpteenth time that week as she threw up into the toilet. He rubbed her back and Aranea groaned in misery, her forehead resting on her arms as they formed a bridge of sorts across the sides of the toilet.

"Ignis, I promise she'll be ok. I'm taking good care of her," Iris said with a half-watt smile.

He scowled, but not at Iris specifically. "She needs medicine. Fluids. _Something._ She's not keeping _anything_ down and this has been going on for how many weeks now? No, she needs medical attention," he snapped.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, Ignis, I'm _fine_. It's just a nasty, persistent stomach bug. And hey," she smiled wearily, "I've lost five pounds because of it."

"You don't have five pounds to lose, my love. Please, just let me take you to the medics and get you something to get rid of this once and for all."

"I said _I'm fine_ ," she ground out as another wave of nausea forced her to turn back to the toilet. Ignis sighed and pulled her hair up higher away from her neck while massaging her back softly. He continued to sit on the floor with her, concerned, until Iris piped up that maybe some bottles of water or saltine crackers would be useful right now.

"Could you please get them, then?" Ignis asked, worry apparent in his tone.

Iris shifted, undoubtedly distressed. "I mean, I could but—"

"Specs, could you just _get the damn crackers for fuck's sake_ ," Aranea interrupted with the most annoyed and irritated voice she could muster. It flustered him and the fleeting look of hurt flashed across his face, but he nodded slowly and kissed the top of her head.

"I'll be right back, then," he surrendered his spot on the ground, dreading the fact that he was leaving her side for a single minute. "Please, consider going to the medical center, though. Please?"

Aranea groaned and he kissed her one more time, turning on his heels and scooting passed Iris. When he left and Iris was sure that he had closed the door, she knelt by Aranea and pulled her hair back for her, braiding it and tying it off with a spare ponytail holder.

"Highwind, when are you going to tell him? You can't hide this from him forever and you're almost out of the first trimester. He needs to know, don't you think?"

With a shake of her head, Aranea closed her eyes and sighed, hanging her head over the toilet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Well, first thing's first . . . I didn't post an author's note in the last chapter because I honestly didn't feel it was necessary, and I'm glad I didn't. I was ridiculously excited with the feedback that I got and I couldn't ask for anything more. I mean it when I say that waiting for that moment was just as excruciating for me as it was for you. But hey! Now we're here and things are only gonna get crazier from here, especially with Noctis' return on the horizon :D 
> 
> Also, can you guys believe this story is longer than the second Harry Potter novel? Hahaha! You guys have read a novel and I'm shocked that I wrote it! This is all because of you guys!! Thank you so much for the love and support. Don't worry, we still have a few more chapters to go, but still! This is just surreal for me.
> 
> Finally, I'm headed out for business again this week (I actually was gone for a huge chunk of this week as well and wrote a lot of this in the airport, on airplanes, and my hotel room) so I'm going to try very very hard to get this next chapter up on Sunday. I don't expect a delay, but if it gets posted way late at night (Eastern Time in the US), that's why. 
> 
> You guys are the best. I love you and thank you!!


	19. I Did It to Protect You

**Water Under the Bridge  
I Did It to Protect You**

Ignis continued to spend plenty of time with Aranea, his worries over her illness ceasing slightly when it seemed she was doing a little better as time went on. At least now she was able to keep down some food and she tried her best to eat what she could, when she could. Funny enough, Ignis picked up on the fact that she didn't seem as cranky toward him anymore. He would ask if she was ok and, instead of snapping like she usually did, she would answer in a quiet, loving manner. It was very unusual for the Commodore to respond to him so nicely, even if they'd been a couple for some time now, but he'd smile and take whatever he could get right now, especially if it meant that she was feeling well enough to actually _be_ nice again.

Today, she would be working on more paperwork ("I can't, for the life of me, figure out why the fuck Cor wants to continue with this damn paperwork. What good is it doing us? There are only a few hundred of us left in this stupid city, so who really cares if the lady in apartment 2B was a seamstress before the Darkness?") and Ignis reluctantly left her side to return to his studies with Talcott.

And that's where the two men were now. Ignis and Talcott sat in the same chairs that they always did, at the same 'dining room' table, under the same dingy light within the same confines of Ignis' room. It was just routine now. Talcott took notes, read aloud, and listened carefully to Ignis' slow but methodical translations of the tome before them. Also on the table was the prophecy painting, spread out across the entire top of the table. Restless, Ignis eventually stood up and paced back and forth from one end of the room to the next, anxiety and dread simmering in his chest. They were so close to figuring out who Ardyn was, and yet, did Ignis even _want_ to know? All these years later. All those confrontations. The anger and heartache and frustration. Was it worth it? Would it really solve anything?

It didn't matter. He _had_ to know, just for his own state of mind.

Over time, since they started their studies into the Starscourge and the history of the Izunia lineage, the two had managed to fill up an entire notebook with notes, which was no easy feat as Talcott had very small, messy handwriting. He was doing what he always did, which was pouring over said notes, while comparing them to what their newly discovered book had to say.

The teen stumbled over some curious information. "This is weird . . . hey, Ignis? Are you sure Ardyn's last name is Izunia?"

Ignis narrowed his eye, putting an end to his incessant pacing as he slowly sunk into his chair again. "Certainly. It's how he introduced himself to us and it's the only name he's ever given us. Why do you ask?"

Talcott flipped several pages of his notes, rereading a few lines before turning back to the book. "That's really odd. There's Proditious Izunia here, but no Ardyn Izunia. I ask, though, because there's an Ardyn Lucis Caelum . . ."

Ignis laughed a cold and sardonic sound. "No, that's impossible. I, of all people, would know if there was an ancestor to the Lucis Caelum lineage that went by the name of 'Ardyn'. I assure you, that's a mistake."

And it was true. Ignis wanted to say he was extremely confident in his knowledge of the Lucis Caelum ancestry. It was the bloodline of his prince. How could he _not_ know? Hearing Talcott even _suggest_ the idea that Ardyn was a Lucis Caelum and not an Izunia was laughable. No, impossible. There was no way.

But Talcott was careful in how he approached this, knowing how sore of a subject it was to the advisor. The way that Ignis was laughing it off was unsettling. "I'm afraid not, sir. It says here that once, long ago, there was a well-renowned healer named Ardyn Lucis Caelum. He was the first in the Lucis Caelum bloodline and was chosen by Bahamut himself to restore health and wellness to those afflicted with the Scourge. It also mentions that he was very well loved by all the people and the sick would travel from all over just to see him, and only him."

Another cynical laugh. "Talcott, you must be daft."

Talcott rolled his eyes, thankful that his mentor was unaware that he did so. He was getting irritated, and Ignis was right there, annoyed as well. "Sir, I promise you, right here it talks about Ardyn Lucis Caelum. He was a healer of the people. I couldn't make this up if I tried."

By now, Ignis was teetering on the edge of irate, believing that the teenager was trying to pull off a not-so-funny joke with him. "Talcott, that's enough. Cease this elaborate prank and focus."

"I'm . . . Ignis, I'm not fooling around. I'm reading what the book says and what you've translated for me. Ardyn is of the Lucis Caelum bloodline, not Izunia. It would explain why we've had a hard time finding anything out about him in the first place. He's not an Izunia. It says right here he's an ancestor of the Lucis Caelum family."

Ignis' mouth went dry. He tried to quench his thirst by reaching for a cup of water that he knew wasn't there and laughed again, only this time it was an unbelieving one. "How? What . . . then what happened? Why would he pull strings and work to incapacitate Noctis? It doesn't make sense" he asked.

With a quick tug at his hat, Talcott mumbled some words to himself as he sped-read. "Here it says: ' _Ardyn Lucis Caelum was a man cursed with life eternal, whose immortality stems from the same scourge that wrought the daemons. One so impure of body and soul was deemed unworthy of the crystals light and forbidden to ascend. His mind twisted by spite and bent on revenge, the Usurper came to bring darkness down upon the world.'_ "

Another few incoherent words and a shrug from the teen. "So, what I'm getting from this is that apparently Ardyn would 'absorb', for lack of better words, the daemons into himself and that is how he became afflicted with the Scourge. Eventually, it tainted him and turned his soul dark and . . . oh, shit."

Ignis' ears perked up even more at the obscenity, pushing his glasses up on his nose and resting his forearms on the table. He could tell Talcott was now looking at him, maybe with eyes a bit wider than usual. His jaw was probably dropped. However it was that he looked, Ignis was just ready to hear what made his protégé stop in his tracks. "Yes?"

Talcott ran his finger under some words as he read them to Ignis. "' _Proditious Izunia, once the great and powerful king of Solheim, grew ever more jealous of Ardyn Lucis Caelum, the healer of the people. As a last resort to save countless lives, Ardyn, the Accursed, took the daemons unto himself, in turn tarnishing his very being. Proditious used the Scourge to his advantage and banished Ardyn to Angelguard Prison, relegating him to a life of solitude until the end of time. Ousted and denied his birthright, the now-eternal Accursed managed to escape the confines of the prison and he returned to the city where Proditious resided. In a fit of rage and seeking vengeance, Ardyn ruthlessly murdered the king in front of his family and his kingdom in hopes that slaying the man would end his immortality and his soul would be set free.'"_

Ignis was unfocused, first leaning forward onto the table and then resting back into his chair for support. Ardyn wasn't always bad, but he was angry and he was intent on exacting revenge. Why, though? Why would he go through the trouble of helping Noctis get to Titan? Pairing their team up with Aranea in Steyliff? All of this, only to kill Luna, separate Prompto from them on the train . . .

Ignis tried to change his train of thought, having gone down this road many times over the last ten years, but it was impossible. Try as he might, he could always count on his darkest thought leading him right back to that day.

He was back in Altissia, cold metallic hands pushing his head to the ground. Separated from Gladio and Prompto, he went down fighting but it wasn't enough. The rain was pelting them and those damn leather boots came into his field of vision. He twisted his body to see Ardyn bent over, sneering. He was mocking him, manipulating him. Telling him every little thing he planned on doing and, at first, he was confused when Ardyn made a cruel joke that Ignis wouldn't get to see any of it.

Of course, it made perfect sense seconds later when he felt his skin melt away, exposing muscle and tendons. The searing heat and smell of burning flesh. He was on fire-more specifically, his face was on fire. There was the sound of his glasses shattering under the heel of Ardyn's boot. The blood from the cuts on his brow, nose, and lip. More pain in his shoulder and chest. Was he shot? Did one of those troopers shoot him? He was screaming, the sound a gurgling cry amidst the cackling of the Chancellor. At one point, Ignis even remembered reaching a hand up to the Chancellor, fingers curled in pain, as if Ardyn could save him from the hell he was in. That only incited another round of giggling from him and Ignis' hand was kicked away and one of his daggers was picked up and placed precariously in the waistband of Ardyn's billowing trousers before trouncing away. Ignis was left in a puddle of rainwater and blood, crying and screaming for his torture to end. Did he make up the fact that he was begging for relief? No, that didn't happen. Ignis would _never_ condescend to beg for mercy. He would fight until his dying breath before he would ever ask for mercy.

That was not the same man described in the books. The man that Ignis remembered—the final thing he saw before his sight was snatched away—was cold. Calculating. Manipulative. The epitome of ruthlessness and evil. Ignis was still scared of him ten years later and he couldn't fathom having an ounce of respect or love for him. How was he the Healer of the people?

Talcott continued to speak, his voice snapping Ignis from his reverie. "' _However, the Crystal had not marked Proditious Izunia as the Chosen King and the Accursed will continue to walk Eos until the Chosen King returns. The Providence is the sole means to ending the immortal Accursed. A power greater than that of the Six, purifying all by the light of the crystal and glaives of ruler's past. Only at the throne can the Chosen receive it, and only at the cost of a life: his own. The king of kings shall be granted the power to banish the darkness, but the blood price shall be paid. To cast out the Usurper and usher in dawn's light will cost the life of the chosen. Many sacrificed all for the King; so must the King sacrifice himself for all. Only the true King, chosen by the crystal and guarded by his forebears, can end the Accursed's madness.'"_

"'Many sacrificed all for the King; so must the King sacrifice himself for all.'I don't get it. What does that even mean? Ignis?"

Ignis brought a hand to his mouth, piecing together all the information like a disjointed jigsaw puzzle in his mind. Time stopped. He was dizzy and disoriented. He traced a hand over the Prophecy painting on the table, everything so clear to him now. He'd studied that painting for so long and so hard in his younger years that, even then, he could visualize it in his head perfectly.

The Chosen King.

It was Noctis.

It was no arbitrary picture—it was _them_. It had always been them. Noctis in the middle, Prompto to the right, Gladio and himself to the left.

The gods above them and the daemons below them.

Why Ardyn _needed_ to guide them and help them along the way.

This was it.

"Oh, my gods. It can't be . . ."

How could they have been so dense?

Ignis stood up, the chair crashing behind him as he violently threw all the books, journals, notes, pictures, and the Prophecy painting to the floor, yelling and screaming, before storming to the door and down the hall. His thoughts were clouded and he almost lost where he was in his rage, but managed to find his way to the door down the hall, banging furiously.

"Cor, open the goddamn door! Open up!" His temper was near boiling.

He didn't care that he was causing a scene, nor did he care that he could very well end up punching a hole in the door with how hard he was pounding on it. He continued his assault on it until it gave way and Ignis' fist made contact with only air.

The advisor was breathing hard, tears welling in his eye with his jaw set hard enough that the muscles were taut along his jawline and down his neck. His fists were balled at his side now and he finally spoke, but his emotions almost got the better of him and it came out weak. "Did you know?"

Cor crossed his arms, standing tall with his chin tilted upward. The man looked so tired, the years quickly catching up with him. He was still the epitome of his namesake—Cor the Immortal; so brave. So strong. Steadfast to a fault. His eyes, however, were drained of the vigor that once burned in them so long ago. "You're going to have to be a tad more specific, Scientia. Did I know, what?"

"Did you know he would die? That he would have to sacrifice himself for the world? Did you?"

Cor didn't even flinch. "You know."

"Answer me!"

"Keep your voice down," Cor barked. He opened the door a little wider. "Get inside. Then, we can talk."

Ignis contemplated the offer, stuck between wanting to run until he was breathless and following the Marshal's order. The latter won out and, resentfully, Ignis moved passed his superior, freezing just steps inside so Cor could guide him to a proper sitting area in the corner. He offered the advisor a drink of water, but Ignis didn't respond—anger brewing just under the surface, clawing at his chest and throat.

The Marshal's eyes bored a hole into Ignis' soul as he took a seat across from him. Ignis didn't come here for idle chit-chat. He was confused, infuriated, horrified, and heartbroken all at the same time.

Noctis.

His friend.

_His King._

Cor leaned forward, never once averting his eyes from Ignis' face. "I did know. I've known longer than I care to admit."

"And you didn't find it of interest or necessary to alert _us_? Were you just going to keep it a secret until we were on that battlefield with him? Were you grooming him? Us? You . . . His Majesty . . . Marshal, tell me it's not true." His voice cracked, so he took a minute to compose himself until he was confident in his ability to speak again. " _Why_?"

"What would you, or Gladiolus, or Prompto have done if you knew the truth? Run out, screaming, until the Gods heard your pleas? Hole yourself up and prayed every day, as if that would change anything? That sort of knowledge would have served no purpose to you. It would have driven you mad. I was _protecting_ you."

Ignis clicked his tongue, but Cor shook his head. "Be angry at me if you must, but be real with yourself, Ignis. You don't think having that information hasn't kept me up all hours of the night? When His Majesty divulged the prophecy to me before the fall of Insomnia, I knew I had no choice but to bear that burden alone until you were ready. I don't expect you to understand my motives, but I kept his fate from you to keep you three safe."

With every word that came out of Cor's mouth, Ignis felt the sharp pain of the figurative knife twist deeper and deeper into his heart. Breathing was becoming a chore. It wasn't possible to hurt this much, and yet here he was, numb and broken but aching. Mourning. He felt the tears threaten to well up, but he was too stubborn to let them fall.

"The Prophecy painting, then . . . " Ignis whispered.

Cor nodded. "The four of you have been on this ordained path since birth. Once Noctis returns from his final trial within the crystal, he will go forward to bring light back to Eos. You will be there by his side as he does so."

This was becoming more sickening by the minute. "No. No, I can't. I won't, Marshal. I can't, in good faith, march alongside His Highness while we depart to our demise. You, of all people, should understand that."

Cor stood up, walking just passed the advisor as he rested a hand on his shoulder, gripping it while the color—what little color he had left from all the years of darkness—drained from his face. "Ignis, you don't have a choice. You understand that, right? You don't have a choice. None of us do."

* * *

Hours later, Ignis was back in his own bedroom. He pardoned Talcott for the evening when he came back and realized that the teen was still sitting right where Ignis had left him when he stormed out earlier. Once alone, Ignis asked his phone, using various voice commands, to send a text message to Gladio and Prompto to come home at once.

At first, Prompto laughed. He punched Ignis in the shoulder and made a comment that Ignis' sense of humor was getting drier by the day, but Ignis' face never faltered. So, Prompto asked again and one more time for good measure to say he was joking. That it wasn't true. That Noctis wasn't going to die. When he realized Ignis wasn't joking, he excused himself and dry heaved in the toilet while Gladio looked at Ignis, aghast.

Now, they all were numb in their various spots around the room. Gladio's hands were interlocked on top of his head and he refused to make eye contact with either of the other men as he faced the window in a daze. Ignis sat on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees and hands in a prayer position on his chin and mouth.

Prompto sounded like he was on the verge of tears. He was in total shock and denial. "Are you . . . are you sure? I mean, maybe you're wrong. Maybe Cor is wrong. Maybe—"

"Don't be a fool, Prompto; the Prophecy has always been right and it has been in front of our faces this whole time. We were just too naïve to see what it really portended."

The blonde's lip quivered and he wiped away a tear that threatened to fall down his cheek. Gladio, for the first time, spoke up. "Does this mean that we are going to die as well alongside Noct?"

Ignis shook his head and sighed, letting his hands fall to his knees. "I can't say for certain. I hate to say that I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if that's the way this has to be."

"No! This isn't fair!" Prompto whined, jumping up and waving his hands in a wildly exaggerated motion. "Noct is supposed to come back and rule as King. We were going to be his Kingsglaive. You have Aranea, Gladio has . . . whoever he has! I'm not ready to die. We're not ready to die! I didn't ask for this!"

"None of us asked for this, Prompto!" Ignis roared over his griping, intimidating the sharpshooter into silence. "Do you _think_ for one second we all woke up and decided this is what we wanted? This is what has been deigned of us. It's written in the stars and the books. Noctis must die to bring back the light."

"No! Fuck it! We've survived this long without the goddamn sun. We don't need it! We can't just walk to our deaths because it's what the Gods want! There has to be _something_! Ignis! You . . . you have the answers to everything! Come _on_! _Please!_ " he begged tearfully.

"Knock it off," Gladio commanded, cutting a glare over to Prompto. "You've gotta get a hold of yourself."

"Oh, easy for you to say! Are you _ok_ with Noct having to die? What about us blindly walking up those damn steps like lambs to slaughter?"

"We don't even know if we have to die!"

Ignis pursed his lips. "We're all in that painting. Everything is right there; the four of us. It's damning evidence, if you ask me."

"Well, I'm not asking you," Prompto spat, wincing as Gladio thundered over and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt.

"Have some respect, Prom. If we must go with Noct, then we will be there. We took an oath, and we will uphold it. Now, settle down!"

He freed Prompto from his grip, but Prompto's eyes immediately welled with tears again. "I don't care that I have to die, I'll get over that. But, does Noct _really_ have to die? It's . . . fuck. No. No. No. Please, no. This isn't right."

Ignis' phone rang in his pocket and they froze, the sound snapping them out of their argument. It rang a few more times until Ignis finally shifted to reach into his pants pocket, pulling the phone out and answering it, putting an end to the obtrusive ringing. "Yes? . . . Aranea, can it wait? I'm in the middle of something right now . . ." He sighed an indignant sound and ran his hand through his hair. "Are you sure? . . . I understand. Yes. I'll be right over. Love you, too."

Gladio raised an eyebrow. "What did she want? Is everything ok?"

The advisor looked uncertain, standing up. He pushed his glasses up higher on his nose, having slid down enough to cause annoyance. "She refused to say; only that it was important that she tell me face-to-face and not over the phone."

There weren't any other words said as Ignis crossed the room to the door. His chest felt heavy and he had to remember how to breathe. This was all too much and he didn't know what Aranea could _possibly_ have to say to him that she couldn't say over the phone. Honestly, he didn't know if he could take any more profound news, but she sounded insistent.

He left his friends standing in the room and he made his way to Aranea's room. Even his knock sounded strained, but Aranea opened on the second knock. "You look like hell," she observed.

"I feel like it."

It was supposed to be a joke, but when he said that, Aranea winced. "Oh. Are you ok?"

Ignis debated the question before struggling to admit, "I don't know."

They stood there in the doorway for a second longer before Aranea stepped aside and allowed him in, her hand tugging at his arm lightly. He wasn't sure if he was just projecting his own sorrows on the situation or if he was that intuitive to Aranea's emotions, but he uncharacteristically fidgeted with his hands while he took a seat in one of the chairs in the corner of the room.

Neither one spoke and dread hung in the air between them. The bed creaked with Aranea taking a seat on the edge. She watched him and he stared blankly ahead in her direction, a firm expression on his face. "You wanted to speak to me?" he clipped.

He sounded cold. Distant. Aranea flinched at the harshness of his voice. "I do, but why don't you tell me what's wrong? I'm honestly getting a little worried. You've never looked this upset before, ever."

Ignis snorted, sitting back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose, a migraine coming on. He heard her get up and walk over to him, kneeling in front of him with her hands on his lap. It was a comforting gesture, but it hurt at the same time. Everything stung. Still, he numbly took her hand in his and squeezed it, a sign that he was at least knowledgeable of the fact that she was right there before him.

"Please, talk to me. You know I hate this emotional shit, but you're starting to scare me."

He opened his mouth to speak, but he couldn't find the right words. _Noctis is going to die. Noctis is going to die. He's going to die and I may die with him._ It felt like a bad dream, like all of his future hopes and aspirations, what little ones he had as of late, were snatched right out from under him. All of this because Ardyn Lucis Caelum needed to be put to rest for being exiled by the king of Solheim. In that moment, he'd never been more angry or bitter toward the gods, his destiny, or his position as Noctis' royal advisor.

But, never bitter at Noctis.

Never.

Ignis pushed the hatred aside in favor of the woman—his anchor in this world—kneeling in front of him. He brought Aranea's hands to his mouth and kissed them, closing his eye and steadying his breath. "Don't worry about me, darling. You asked me over because you had something you wanted to talk about?"

She shifted, her lower legs numb under her and prickling with invisible pins-and-needle. If he wasn't going to talk, she might as well take him up on his offer to speak first. "Yeah. Listen, I know we've come pretty far in the short time we've been together, but with everything going on and with how busy you've been, I didn't want what I'm about to tell you to have any impact on your studies or on your ability to fight, so I wanted to wait for the right time to tell you. Turns out, there's not really a good time to tell someone this sort of thing. Just know that I didn't say anything at first because anything could happen, you know? Not just with us, but with . . . Just, please, don't get mad."

Now it was Ignis' turn to be worried—as if he didn't already have enough on his mind. He raised an eyebrow and frowned. "Go on . . ." he prompted.

There was an uncomfortable silence between them while Aranea shifted again. "So, that stomach virus? The one I've had for the past month?"

"Yes?"

"It wasn't exactly a stomach virus. Well, I guess it could be, depending on how you look at it," she joked, laughing an awkward laugh and quieting when Ignis glared down at her. "Yeah, not funny. Anyway, I was never sick with a stomach virus. The nurse down at the medical unit said I'm healthy and happy—for the most part—and . . . well . . . I think our little one is going to be healthy and happy, too."

She drew out the last part of her sentence and Ignis furrowed his brows, creases sharp on his face as he tried to comprehend what she was telling him. "What are you saying?" he whispered, already drawing the conclusion for himself but needing to hear it aloud.

She got right to the point, her voice lowered to match the volume of his. "Ignis, I'm pregnant."

For the second time that evening, Ignis was speechless, but his mind continued to race. It felt almost like someone smacked him upside the head and he was left dazed and stunned. He could make out Aranea saying something about him not needing to help if he didn't want to, that she was perfectly capable of raising this child on her own and she knew this wasn't the best time to be pregnant or something like that.

"You're . . . we're . . . expecting?" he stuttered, though it sounded strangled. Inside, he was screaming. If he was hurting before with the news of Noctis, he was downright swimming in agony now at the news that his love was pregnant with _his_ child. A child in this sordidly miserable world. A child that he'd _never_ get to lay eyes on—before because of his injury, but now . . . now . . .

"Yeah, just about to hit fourteen weeks. I didn't know how you'd take the news, so I don't know, I was honestly petrified to tell you, but Iris—"

"Iris knows?" he asked, his voice not sounding at all like it was coming from him. In fact, this whole thing was one big out-of-body experience.

"A little hard keeping morning sickness a secret like that from a roommate, don't you think? I think she knew I was pregnant before _I_ even knew." Aranea sighed, a sad smile gracing her lips. "We probably should have been more careful, I know, but it's a little late for that now. I'm . . . Ignis, I'm sorry."

He recoiled. "Sorry? Why are you sorry?"

"Because we're in this now. Or, maybe we are? You really don't have to stick around. I'd understand if you bailed. It's really not a big deal."

The features of his face softened. She was ready for him to run, terrified that he'd leave for stupid reasons. "Aranea," he murmured, his fingers tracing up and down her cheek.

Ignis always thought that, when the time came for him to be a father, it would be such a joyous occasion. And, truth be told, a huge part of him was bursting with excitement knowing that Aranea was pregnant with his child—a child made between them with love. However, with everything else that night, he also felt incredibly ill. He fought the urge to run to the bathroom to throw up, like Prompto did upon learning that Noctis would perish.

Aranea was interpreting Ignis' hesitation for rejection and he knew it, but he couldn't speak—couldn't find the words to reassure her. Every emotion waged a war inside of him and it took everything he had to shake his head that, no, he wasn't snubbing her. But, how could Ignis _possibly_ begin to tell Aranea anything now? How, when he'd always heard and known that stress can be bad for a developing child? What would that do to her to learn that Ignis was possibly on the road to death? What would that do to their child?

He would find another time to tell her, but it couldn't be now.

Cor's words about protecting him and the others by omitting the true depth of his knowledge regarding the Prophecy rang loud in his head and suddenly he understood what Cor was doing when he kept that from them.

He'd promised Aranea that they'd live their lives out together until the bitter end, come Ifrit's lair or high water. He promised he'd always come back for her. He promised that their relationship would never end because of his duty to Noctis or because he'd have to rush into war, as her prior relationship had.

From yelling at Cor for keeping Noctis' fate a secret to knowing he'd have to break his promise to Aranea, all the way to never being able to see his future child, made him sick.

He felt like the worst, most repulsive hypocrite on the planet.

He pulled Aranea so she was standing in front of him. Leaning forward, his hands on her hips while her fingers were tangled in his hair, he kissed her stomach over and over again, praying that the growing child inside knew that he was sorry.

So sorry for everything.

And praying that both the baby and Aranea would understand one day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: Whoops! This came out way late (and technically, it's Monday my time so :\ ). Another business trip this week, plus I spent time with the husband, beat Episode Prompto, and relaxed for a day . . . wasn't as productive with this chapter as I probably should have been but I know you guys understand. At least, I really hope so! D:
> 
> I also failed to write back to a lot of the later reviews I got this week, so I'll go back when I wake up in the morning and get to those. Just know that yes, I did get them and I read them and loved them all! I should also say that, in regards to my last chapter, there is a method to my madness. There always has been. :)
> 
> Aaaaannndddd I'm sorry that this chapter basically took on all angst. That was fun to write on airplanes and in airports :)
> 
> Thank you guys so much for your patience and understanding this week! I'm so sorry this came out ridiculously late and I'll get back to those reviews tomorrow!


	20. Be Waiting

**Water Under the Bridge  
Be Waiting**

There were three moments where Ignis should have told Aranea his looming secret.

The first should have been that very night when she informed him of her pregnancy. Of course, he slogged to her door with the intention that he would tell her that his promises were all a lie and that he would probably perish alongside his friends—though, the hope was that it would happen later rather than sooner, but even that killed Ignis to even think about.

What kind of advisor was he that he would silently pray for his prince—no, his king, he corrected—to stay away for a little while longer?

A shitty one, that's for sure.

Instead of telling her, Ignis and Aranea stayed up all night after she told him she was pregnant, talking about everything except the reason why Ignis looked so spooked. Sometime during their conversation, they moved to talk in Aranea's bed. Ignis sat upright, his back pressed against the headboard while Aranea rested comfortably into him, her head on his chest. He had one hand playing with her hair while his other hand never left the nearly indiscernible bump of her stomach.

Funny, he thought with a mix of sarcasm and humor, how he could have been so blind to the real reason she was sick. It wasn't like they were very careful when they had sex so it wasn't that it was a huge shock; but nonetheless, it was still a surprise—a happy one, no less.

Their talk went from what they should do, what should happen from here, to more fun and heartwarming topics, like who the baby would look like more. Would they have Ignis' green eyes? Aranea's spunky personality? Would they favor one over the other, or be a perfect blend of the two? Boy names. Girl names. Everything.

Ignis tried so hard not to get caught up in the frivolity of the matter, but it was extremely difficult. He wanted to remain as grounded as possible, especially knowing what exactly was in store for him in the future—though how soon that future would happen upon him remained to be seen. Aranea and Ignis rambled quietly until her alarm went off in what would have been when the sun's rays came up. She had to meet Cor to strategize how they planned to take back Insomnia one day, but neither she nor Ignis wanted to part. So, she allowed herself to be late for once and they talked for a while longer. It wasn't until Ignis gently prodded her to leave that they said their goodbyes.

He padded back to his room, trying to keep as quiet as possible upon entering, but he was a little louder than he meant to be. Gladio and Prompto were both stirring in their beds—Prompto having taken up residence in Ignis' bed for the night—as he crossed the threshold, exhaustion apparent across his features.

"Hey, Iggy, everything ok?" Prompto questioned, sleep croaking his voice.

Gladio moved to the edge of his bed, kicking his feet over so they were planted firmly on the ground. "You were gone all night. What happened?"

Both men, only half awake, sat and waited for Ignis to divulge what it was that kept him away. He stayed quiet for a moment before a spread its way across his lips. "We're having a baby," he whispered.

At first, the two men blinked. It took a second for that to settle, but then they were cheering. Ignis braced himself as Prompto and Gladio both jumped up, sheets and blankets falling to the wayside as they continued their screaming. They stampeded to him; Gladio effortlessly lifting him up from the ground in a giant bear hug while Prompto hugged him from behind so tight that it nearly cut off Ignis' ability to breathe.

"Dude! _Ignis_! You're going to be a dad! Which means _I'm going to be an uncle_!" Prompto cried, unable to contain his elation.

Gladio still had Ignis in a tight embrace, ruffling his hair. "Here I thought, of the four of us—Noct included—that _I'd_ be the first one to have a kid," he joked.

"I think we _all_ thought that, big guy. Remember when we first got to Galdin Quay and you met those girls who were there for some bachelorette party? You went on and on about how you could get with all of them and—"

Ignis wriggled his way out from under Gladio's squeeze on him just as Gladio shushed Prompto, mumbling that he was a sex-crazed young adult male at the time and that he was different now.

"Yeah, yeah. Wanting to propose to your secret girlfriend and all that. We get it, you've changed," Prompto returned his interest to Ignis. "Well? How far along is she?"

"Fourteen-ish weeks?" Ignis said with a slightly unsure tone.

"Is she ok?

"Is that why she's been sick?"

"How is she feeling now?"

"Are you nervous to be a dad?"

"Is it a boy or a girl?"

Ignis let out a laugh with every question thrown his way. "It's far too early to tell if the child is a boy or girl. Let's just hope that those blasted machines are decent enough to get even a halfway passable ultrasound. . . for Aranea, obviously."

Gladio was the first one to sober up from the excitement with this news. "Ignis," he started, sadly. "Does Aranea even _know_? Everything yesterday? Will you be around for the birth? Will Noctis be home by then?"

And Ignis' world came crashing down. For a brief moment, he'd almost forgotten about the entirety of yesterday's bad news, but Gladio's questions brought him right back to reality. A frightening and wretched reality.

"I couldn't tell her. I . . ." He was lightheaded and heavy at the same time. The feather-light touch of Prompto's fingers was on his arm, beckoning him to have a seat, but he brushed them aside. "I should shower. I need to be alone, if you don't mind." So, Ignis excused himself to the bathroom, locking the door and turning the shower on to the highest temperature it would go.

Once he stripped nude, piling his clothes to the side, he carefully stepped over the tub and into the stream of water. The temperature of the water would no doubt shade his skin red and turn it raw, but he couldn't feel it. The burn couldn't touch the pain inside, scorching his heart. Then, he let his back rest against the cool tile of the wall and he slid down it, wrapping his arms around his legs and pulling his knees close to his chest.

_Breathe. Just breathe._

He didn't cry. It wasn't that he was being strong or fighting back the urge to. No; all those tears were shed earlier when he learned of Noctis' fate, as well as his own. Of Gladio and Prompto's. And then, to be told that he would be a father to a child he may never come to know . . . there were no more tears for Ignis anymore. They were spent.

So, he sat under the showerhead until the water ran cold, ignoring the worried knocking from Prompto and Gladio, with his forehead resting on his knees and praying for the millionth time in the last 24 hours to the Gods that put him on this ill-fated path.

* * *

The second time that Ignis should have told Aranea what he knew was when he was by her bedside at the medical center as they learned the gender of their child.

Earlier that week, Aranea was tasked, along with Gladio and Biggs, to fight off an unruly bunch of daemons close to Ravatogh. It was a mission that Aranea fought hard for Ignis to come along with, arguing that Ignis would be a great asset to the operation but Cor wasn't having it.

"Stay close. I don't need _all_ my best fighters to head out at the same time," he said, barely looking up from a map of the world spread open on his desk. So, as a result, Ignis was to remain behind, fighting daemons within the vicinity, while Gladio, Biggs, and Aranea moved out to the far corners of Lucis.

"It won't be long," she reassured at the vehicle compound. He'd come to say goodbye and wish her luck. She ran a hand down his cheek while taking extra care to brush her thumb along the scar on his lip.

He put on a brave face, but there were certainly some cracks in his composure. He'd tried to talk her out of fighting these days, worried that something would happen to her or the baby. Aranea was too stubborn to listen, citing that she was a warrior at heart and she'd just go stir-crazy, and Ignis eventually caved to her will, as he always seemed to do. "I understand, my love. Just hurry home."

"Ugh, seriously; you're such a sap. If I didn't enjoy your company so much, I'd kick you to the curb."

"Let's not forget that I'm the father of the child you're carrying. That's _also_ a good reason to keep me around."

"Actually, I only keep you around because you're great in bed."

Another peck on the lips and she was climbing in the car—a little less gracefully than she would've liked—alongside the Shield and her longtime cohort. They made the drive to Ravatogh and parked close to some protective ruins where Gladio made camp for the evening. The three made small talk and cracked jokes here and there before retiring to bed.

When they awoke, they cleaned up but didn't pack everything away—all assuming they'd be back that evening to camp another night. With weapons in hand, they crept a mile or so away and saw the daemons making a home of the small rest stop up ahead.

"Got a strategy you want us to follow, oh fearless leader?" Gladio asked, shouldering his large sword. Biggs also looked to Aranea, poised to fire his machine gun with a single command if told to do so.

Aranea adjusted her armor, tugging at it so it covered her stomach just a little more. Something about the rush and thrill of battle would never get old, but Aranea couldn't rid the nagging voice in the back of her head that this wasn't a good idea.

Maybe she _should_ have listened to Ignis and sat this one out, but she was independent and tenacious to a fault—something that Ignis never failed to let her forget. It was funny at first when he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose at her obstinate personality, but right now it was downright irritating to her as his accented voice scolded her in her head.

She couldn't afford to waver, not when daemons were in front of them, dangerous and waiting. Walking ahead, she said over her shoulder, "Yeah. Don't die."

"Great plan." Gladio shook his head and smirked and, together, the three of them came up on the daemons, ready to vanquish them so they would no longer be a nuisance—at least, for the time being, until more daemons would inevitably spawn or appear from the shadows beyond, born from those afflicted with the Scourge.

The fight started out relatively in their favor. The Nagarani and the Mindflayer were on the weaker end, with Gladio making quick work of the Mindflayer and Aranea tag-teaming with Biggs to end the Nagarani. It was almost fun and Aranea allowed her nerves to settle. Ignis was just anxious and paranoid. Everything was fine! He worried too much.

Aranea kept up for a while. She was so lost in fighting the Nagarani that she almost didn't hear Gladio shouting to her, pointing frantically at the group of daemons that chose that moment to ambush them. The daemons were hungry for the trio's blood and lives—or, desperate to be put them out of their misery. Either way, Aranea, Biggs, and Gladio were greatly outnumbered now, but it wasn't anything they hadn't survived before. Aranea delegated Biggs to shoot at two Bussemands from the outer edges of the skirmish and commanded Gladio to attack the Imps with a sweeping motion of his sword.

Then, everything happened so quick. It was a blur and there was nothing anyone could do to stop it. Before she could return to her own battle, the tail of the Nagarani she was dealing with before swung around, right outside of Aranea's field of vision, and whipped her to the side. She smashed, hard, against a rock and slumped to the ground on her back. Colliding with the rock was enough to cause her to see stars and knock the wind out of her. On instinct, her hand flew to her stomach and she began to panic as faint aches of cramping throbbed in her lower belly.

"No. No no no please no," she begged to no one in particular. The cramps remained dull, but they were there and it terrified her that maybe she really had fucked up.

Gladio paused as the Imps disappeared in a purple and black haze, yelling out to see of Aranea was alright. When she didn't immediately respond, he abandoned his attack on the rest of the daemons and ran to Aranea's side, eyes searching hers.

"It hurts," was all she said, dazed. There was no blood and no apparent trauma, but Gladio knew she wouldn't show any sign of weakness in front of anyone unless it was truly an emergency.

"Can you walk?" he asked, grimacing when she nodded but then shook her head. He could tell she was petrified and something was seriously wrong. Without a second thought, Gladio scooped her up into his arms, calling to Biggs that they were retreating. There was nothing on Eos worth sacrificing a pregnant woman and her child over. The three ran the long distance to where they'd parked their car and Gladio gently placed her in the backseat while Biggs started up the vehicle. They left their camping supplies at the site, agreeing that it would take too long to load back up. It was imperative that they return to Lestallum to get Aranea medical attention.

Luckily, about midway through the drive, the cramping subsided. When they got back to the city and while the medic evaluated Aranea, Gladio sprinted to the Levelle, thundering up the stairs to the shared bedroom. "Ignis," he panted, a stitch forming in his side. Luckily, the advisor wasn't out and about. He was sitting at the table, listening to the only audiobook that Prompto had ever managed to upload on his phone. When Gladio burst through the door, he jumped and let out an incensed yelp. "Ignis, you need to come with me. Daemon hunting went bad and Aranea's at the medical center."

"What?!"

"I think she's ok, but she definitely took a hard hit so she's being evaluated right now."

Gladio bolted and Ignis was quick to throw his phone aside as he hurried close behind. When they made it to the medical center, Ignis was nothing if not completely beside himself, a far cry from the composed and reassured man that everyone else knew. He allowed Gladio to lead him to Aranea's bedside and questions immediately fell from the advisor's mouth.

"Aranea, what happened? Are you ok? Are you in pain? How's our—"

"Mr. Scientia?" the medic interrupted, clicking a pen and writing some notes on a clipboard. Even during the darkness, modern medicine remained above average. While most of the professional doctors had perished or disappeared over time, a handful of medics remained prepared and ready to treat anyone who came through with any ailment that arose. Pregnancy was no exception.

"Yes?" Ignis responded a little brasher than he meant to. Aranea yanked on his hand as if to tell him to calm down, but Ignis ignored her gesture.

"Well, it seems that Ms. Highwind is going to be ok. The hit she took was probably more of a shock to the system than anything, but we can't have any more incidences like that, understood? I'm ordering her to modified bedrest for the duration of her pregnancy. That means no battles, no daemon hunting. No strenuous activities or exercise—"

"Does that include fucking my husband's brain's out?"

The medic remained stone-faced while Ignis turned about fifty shades of red, both from Aranea's lack of couth and from being called her 'husband'—though, he admitted to himself, it did have a nice ring to it coming from her. Still, he hissed at her under his breath. "Darling, _please_. This is serious."

"Oh, fuck, Ignis; have a sense of humor."

"A little hard to have a sense of humor while you're in a hospital bed because you were careless," he snapped. "What were you _thinking_? Why didn't you listen to me when I asked you to stay behind?"

She looked incensed. "I'm fine, _darling_ ," she spat back, using his term of endearment as a sarcastic retort. "And our baby is fine, too, so calm the fuck down."

The medic cleared his throat and brought the attention back to him. "As I was saying, you may indulge in sexual intercourse, if you wish, but just be mindful of _what_ it is you are doing. No . . . questionable . . . acrobatics in the bedroom, if you will," he informed.

"What, because we both wield lances, you think us as acrobatic in the bedroom?" Aranea snorted. "Because I mean . . . yeah, you're right; we are."

" _Aranea . . ._ " Another low warning before turning back to the medic.

He chuckled. "As long as you are aware of your body and the limitations, your daughter will be perfectly healthy upon arrival."

The couple turned in sync to the medic, eyes wide and jaws partially dropped.

Ignis gaped at this revelation. "Daughter?"

"Sorry, doc, but what the _fuck_? What did you say?" Aranea said.

The medic's eyes flickered across the paperwork on his clipboard and he hummed. "Well, yes. The ultrasound showed her growing at an acceptable rate, though maybe a little on the smaller side for now. We can keep an eye on that, though. Nothing to be alarmed about. But, yes, she is a she. A still healthy and happy 'she'," he smiled to the shocked faces. "Let me go check to make sure your other scans look ok and run this paperwork through before I discharge you, ok?"

He bowed his head in a farewell gesture before leaving the parents alone in stunned silence. Their spat over Aranea's 'carelessness' was now a distant memory in light of the news they just received. Ignis continued to keep his face to where the medic stood seconds before and Aranea had her eyes on him. He was shaking. "A . . . girl?"

His hand was brushing her stomach and Aranea couldn't help but smile as his fingers skirted her shirt, stretching just a little bit to accommodate her belly as it grew every day. "We're having a girl," she breathed while Ignis laughed quietly. "Think you can handle _two_ girls in one household?"

He quirked one eyebrow down at her. "One household? Commodore, are you insinuating that we move in together?"

Aranea shrugged. "Eh, figure if I'm going to be on modified bed rest and we have a kid coming soon, we should _probably_ figure out this whole living situation. I mean, I sure as hell am not going to be the only one waking up in the middle of the night when she's hungry. You helped create this thing, so you're going to help take care of it."

That was the second time that Ignis should have told her about his plight. He could tell her that there may never be a moment where he gets to wake up and feed his daughter, that he may never get to rock her to sleep or hear her laugh. Her first words. The silly pictures she'd draw. Her first steps.

But Aranea sounded so damn at peace and he wasn't about to tell her after the scare they just had. It was still a fragile moment and Ignis thought he could bear the weight of the prophecy and his fate just a little while longer.

So, he swallowed forcefully and rolled his eye at the same time, acting as though moving in with her would be a chore. "I suppose I have no choice."

She smirked and settled back into her pillow.

* * *

The third moment that Ignis should have told Aranea came about a month and a half later, right before Prompto knocked on their door.

It wasn't long after Aranea's scare that Cor gave his approval for Aranea and Ignis to take up residence in one of the vacant apartment spaces across the courtyard of the Levelle. It had belonged to a daemon hunter who lost their life far too young and it remained uninhabited until the two made it their home. It had a kitchen, one bedroom, a loft they'd convert to the baby's room, and running water. That was all they'd really need.

Ignis dreaded packing his belongings. Of course, he was excited to share a home with Aranea, but that didn't mean he wasn't sad about the fact that he was leaving Gladio and Prompto. The three cohabitated so well that it was a little upsetting for it to come to an end, but he kept telling them that he was literally just across the street. He'd still cook for them if they wanted and he hoped they'd still find time to spar with him. It was almost pathetic how woeful they were about this because, really, it was just across the courtyard; not even a few minutes' walk away.

They all knew this was for the best and it was silly to ever think that it would stay the three of them forever. Except, there wasn't going to be a forever for them and Gladio and Prompto wanted Ignis to live out these days the way he wanted to. They knew Ignis was still figuring out how to tell Aranea the truth, but they kept their comments to themselves. However, the baby was getting to a point where stress wouldn't prove detrimental and they all knew they were running out of time. Call it a hunch, but they knew Noctis' return was on the horizon.

At first, it was incredibly strange to wake up next to Aranea and not to the snores of his brothers, but Ignis loved being able to roll over and pull Aranea into his chest. Aranea _hated_ cuddling and she pushed Ignis away a lot, claiming that she couldn't sleep while squished up against someone, but Ignis would give her a look and she would relent. It was also nice to make love whenever they wanted without the fear of being walked in on or knowing they'd have to part afterward to their respective rooms.

Of course, living with each other didn't come without its pitfalls. Ignis had to relearn his living spaces' layout and nuances, mapping everything out in his head with exact paces from one end of a room to the other. He'd run his hand along the walls, counting the steps from the bathroom to the bedroom. The path from the bedroom to the loft. The distance from the loft to the front door.

Because of his handicap, everything needed to remain a certain way. If there was a mug here, a piece of furniture there, it completely threw him off and he would fail at hiding his annoyance. Aranea, on the other hand, was a lot messier than Ignis realized. She left her clothes on the floor, forget to make the bed, and dishes would pile up before Ignis would grumble, realizing she hadn't done them _yet again_.

They bickered a lot more. Hormones, fatigue, the quickened pace of their relationship, and moving in so suddenly wore them down. Ignis was always one breath away from hurling a sarcastic comment while Aranea made no qualms at hiding the fact that she _hated_ how much of a neat freak he was and how conforming to a routine was so boring.

One blowout fight—born from Ignis' ever growing stress at the secret he was keeping, Aranea's desperation to figuring out why he was so stand-offish and cross, and all the little squabbles they continued to have—led to Aranea slamming the door to their bedroom and Ignis leaving the apartment for an hour to throw his daggers at the tree where they trained in the field outside of Lestallum.

With every throw and every satisfying thud of his daggers in the trunk of the trees, Ignis felt the anger fade and the sorrow return. Aranea didn't know, but he thought she had a hunch that something was amiss and she was left in the dark. He wondered if she'd tried to get any information from Prompto and Gladio, but then shook his head, knowing full well that they would cave in a heartbeat due to her ever-increasing wrath brought on by the pregnancy hormones. But she definitely knew something was up. The tension and depression was high and Ignis would be surprised if Aranea _hadn't_ picked up on it.

He couldn't hide this from her anymore. Noctis was going to return and Aranea would have to go on in life without Ignis by her side. With a resigned sigh, Ignis convinced himself that she needed to know right now. They couldn't go on with him ready to blow up at any given second because he was so tense and wrought with despair. Dismissing his daggers, he sauntered back to the apartment, knocked softly on the bedroom door, and climbed into bed with his lover while holding her stomach and kissing her neck.

"I'm sorry," he whispered into her ear.

"Yeah, well, you're still an asshole."

Ignis couldn't deny that he hadn't been the easiest to get along with over the last couple of weeks, but he was trying to make amends and Aranea wasn't exactly making it easy for him. He tried again. "I really am sorry, my love. Please, forgive my lack of patience as of late. It isn't you that I'm angry with. It's my own overanalytical mind putting me through hell and back."

It was that moment that he felt the baby kick. Ignis thought his heart stopped. He heard the bed creak as Aranea shifted to look at him over her shoulder, an obvious smirk no-doubt on those gorgeous lips. "She thinks you're an asshole, too, for leaving the apartment like that."

He chuckled. "Already has a personality like her mother."

"What? Awesome and badass?"

"That, and she's not afraid to let me know when I'm allowing myself to become too caught up in the stresses of the everyday. A wonderful trait to have, might I add."

They smiled and Aranea took Ignis' hand in hers, guiding him to where the baby was kicking. A couple more soft thumps and Ignis wanted to cry, both of sheer exhilaration and painful mourning. His fingers twitched and Aranea shifted so she was facing him, sensing his internal struggles. She had one hand under her head while the other hand lazily moved through his dark, unstyled hair. "Specs, talk to me, please. Don't make me force you to tell me why you've been a weirdo."

He felt a lump form in his throat and he tried to smile, but it was pointless. This wasn't happy or cheerful or anything like that. It was unbearable. There was nothing to smile about. "It's so hard," he started, his voice barely audible that he almost wondered if he said that aloud or if he merely thought it.

"What is?"

"What I have to tell you."

A soft grin. "What can be so hard that you are allowing it to consume you like this? Is it your studies? I noticed you and Talcott don't meet up as much anymore. If you're frustrated with that, don't worry; you're fucking brilliant. You always solve whatever puzzle or issue comes up. You'll be fine."

Ignis placed a hand on her arm to keep him anchored, worried that the stress and anxiety would whisk him away to some dark and foreign recess of his mind. He opened his mouth, the secret on the tip of his tongue, but a knock at the door stopped him before the words fell from his lips. His face contorted to confusion and he rolled off the bed and padded to the door with Aranea close behind.

Another knock, this time more frantic, but Ignis opened the door and the noise stopped. There was a weird silence and the advisor wasn't sure who exactly was standing before him until Aranea greeted Prompto from behind Ignis' shoulder.

"Oh, hey Aranea! You look good! You have that pregnancy glow, you know? Hmm, nice place you got here. Spacious! Oh, wow! Is that a loft?! I always _wanted_ a loft! I thought it would be a great room to play video games in or something! Is that where you're putting the baby? Shit, maybe I should move in—"

"Prompto," Ignis cut him off, standing aside so he could enter the apartment, "can we help you?"

"Oh, yeah. Whoops, sorry. Nervous, I guess."

Ignis closed the door and Prompto was standing between the open-concept kitchen and the living room, rubbing a piece of paper in his fingers uneasily. Aranea had her arms crossed, hip resting against the countertop. Prompto continued to play with the piece of paper, reading it over and over before taking a deep breath. "Umbra just came by. Haven't seen the little guy in a while, so I almost forgot who he was, but nope; definitely Umbra. Anyway, he had something for us."

"Yes?"

Prompto picked up Ignis' arm and placed the piece of paper in his hand. Ignis turned his head to Prompto, who had gone unusually quiet. His heart pounded in his throat, while his stomach fell somewhere around his feet. "What is it?" he whispered, but it was obvious what exactly it was.

Prompto moved aside as Aranea casually strolled to Ignis' side, leaning over to read what the paper said. "All it says is, ' _Be waiting; in Hammerhead.'_ "

Ignis knew he caught Prompto's stare and they all stood in the middle of the living room. Ignis found the moment bittersweet.

"He's back."

Noctis was home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: We have three more chapters until the end. I can't believe we're staring the ending right in the face. Three more chapters. It's crazy to me.
> 
> Noctis is coming back!
> 
> And I'm headed out on vacation for a few days later this week, but I'm still going to try to get the next chapter out on Sunday, like always :) If not, then it'll come shortly after.
> 
> Wow. Sorry, I'm still in shock that we're almost done. It's bittersweet. But I do have another story lined up to start and I have a rather . . . erm . . . explicit one-shot that I've almost completed (both HighSpecs, of course), so I'm not done once this story is finished :)
> 
> Thank you guys! I love you all bunches!


	21. Goodbye and Hello

**Water Under the Bridge  
Goodbye and Hello**

The nightmares came back with a vengeance that week. Every night, or whenever Ignis felt himself drifting off to sleep, he was jolted awake, terrorized by visions of Ardyn, Noctis' long absence and impending arrival, a never-ending ambush of daemons, his injuries, blood spilled everywhere . . . it was an endless barrage of delirium and panic. Ignis tried his best to remain calm when he stirred—sometimes shaken from his nightmares by Aranea, other times snapping to on his own. After every night terror, it was quite a feat to fall back asleep—if he was able to at all.

Word spread quickly that the Chosen King was returning and everyone was buzzing with excitement. "He's home!" they all said. "He'll bring light back to Eos! We're saved! Praise to the Gods!"

The cheerful chatter and blind worshipping of the Gods, as if they were the reason for everyone's salvation, angered Ignis, as well as Gladio and Prompto. These people only saw Noctis as a martyr. A sacrificial lamb. Their ticket to deliverance. But he was more than that. He was their friend and their brother-in-arms. It broke their hearts more than anything, knowing the truth of what was to come.

"It's appalling how  _happy_  this town is," Ignis spat one afternoon while he and Aranea walked to meet with Cor, Gladio, Prompto, and Iris. It was time to strategize and plan their next moves when Noctis came home.

"Can you blame them? It's been ten years of misery. Cut them some slack."

"That's Noctis'  _death_  they're hailing. He'll be back any day now and all they care about is the goddamn sun coming back."

Aranea stopped and pulled Ignis back by the hand. "Alright, Specs; you  _need_  to breathe. You have every right to grieve in your own way, but these civilians have no clue about the truth of the prophecy. You're taking your anger out on everyone else and, honestly, it's a little out of character for you."

The touch of her hand, moving up and down his arm, calmed his anxiety slightly. She went a step further by taking his hand and placing it on her stomach, right where the baby was kicking again, so vibrant and full of life. Ignis grinned. "She's active today," he observed.

"A little. Only just started when she heard your voice bitching and complaining. I think she wanted to let you know that everything's going to be ok. And, honestly, it will be. We've all been through worse. We'll get through this, alright?"

That knocked the wind out of Ignis' lungs, but Aranea failed to notice as she slipped by him, lacing her fingers with his as they went back to walking. The rest of the walk was quiet and finally Aranea opened the door of an older building down a narrow alleyway where Cor had set up an office of sorts, used quite often over the last decade. Everyone else had already arrived and the couple entered, taking a seat at the table in the middle of the poorly lit room. Spread out over the surface of the table were various maps, photographs, and written notes about the condition of Insomnia as of late.

The atmosphere was strained and overwrought with discomfort. Prompto was fidgety, ready to jump out of his skin while Iris looked like she'd cried a thousand tears. Dark circles created shadows under her red, swollen eyes and she barely looked at Gladio, even though they were mere inches apart.

Aranea tilted her head in confusion. "What's wrong with you, Iris? I swear, you're crying all the time lately. In fact, you've cried nonstop since you found out His Highness—"

"Majesty," Ignis corrected. "It's Majesty. Highness is reserved for princes and princesses of the Royal Family. Majesty is the correct title for kings and queens of the Family."

She rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Same thing.  _Anyway,_  you've cried nonstop since you found out His  _Majesty—_ " she said it in a condescending tone "—was on his way back. Thought you'd be happier, what with that childhood crush you told me all about you had on him."

Ignis shot a look over where Gladio was sitting and, before Iris could open her mouth to explain the real reason she was inconsolable, Gladio kicked her gently under the table to shush her. The entire thing didn't go unnoticed by Aranea who looked from Iris to Ignis, to Gladio, back to Iris again. Aranea was unable to get in a word otherwise when Cor's chair scraped against the flooring as he stood up, moving to pace the length of the table. "Iris and I set out on reconnaissance to see what we could scope out within the city walls. As you can see," he motioned to a picture that Gladio was holding between his thumb and forefinger, "the entire city is in ruins. Despite this, we were able to scope out a decent path leading from the outer walls to the gates of the Citadel. I understand this isn't too much to go on, but it's a start."

"How bad is it, Marshal? Daemon-wise?" Ignis asked as Cor passed behind his chair.

"It's rough. Think along the lines of Giant Flans. Ariadnes. There were a few Red Giants in the distance, but nowhere near the footpath you'll be taking. Regardless, these aren't the daemons we've played with in recent years. You have your work cut out for you, that much is certain."

"What about you?" Prompto muttered while taking the photo from Gladio and studying it under the dim lighting of the room. "Are you joining us?"

"Unfortunately, you four will have to go at this alone. This is your story and no one else's. I will gather up our strongest fighters and follow behind, but for a majority of your time within the Wall, it will be only you four." Cor stopped and turned his voice to the back of Aranea's head as she drummed her fingers on the table. "Commodore, I trust you understand why you must remain behind?"

She rolled her eyes and, somehow, Ignis could tell that she was restless. "Yeah, whatever. A pregnant woman on the battlefield isn't exactly a dream scenario, let alone one that should probably go lay down and rest at the mere mention of the words 'fight', 'stress', and 'anxiety'."

"It's not all bad, Aranea. I'm staying behind too, you know. I can't . . . it's just . . . " Iris' bottom lip quivered again and she gripped Gladio's forearm tightly, earning another glare from Aranea and a frown from Ignis and Prompto.

The Marshal continued, all but ignoring Iris' sobbing. "I've already informed Ms. Aurum of your arrival in Hammerhead. She has the caravan all set for your stay. Talcott will accompany you as well to the station. I've asked that he drive around, on the lookout for any signs of Noctis' return. The only thing we have to go on is the note that Umbra brought. We have no clue of when or where Noctis will reappear, so I ask that we plan ahead and move you three out to Hammerhead as soon as possible, just on the off chance he comes back sooner rather than later."

"Yes, sir," the three men responded in unison.

He stopped at the head of the table, hands behind his back. "Are there any questions? Comments?" Everyone stayed quiet, waiting for someone else to voice their hesitations or concerns. "Alright. Then it's settled. You have until tomorrow evening to wrap up any loose ends here and make your way to Hammerhead."

Prompto shrugged indifferently. "I'll just leave tonight. Makes no sense for me to stick around here for nothing."

"Pfsh. Who are you kidding, Prom?" Gladio derided. "We all know you just want to get to Hammerhead for one more chance with Cindy."

Even though everyone half-heartedly chuckled at the comment, Aranea furrowed her eyebrows. "One more shot? What, you  _really_ think Prompto's going to kick the bucket with you guys by his side? I fought with him in Gralea. I've seen him fight firsthand. If anything, he's not going to be the first to need a Phoenix Down."

Eyes shifted from person to person, wondering if and when Aranea would catch on, seeing as Ignis had failed to tell her anything of what was to come. Then, Cor cleared his throat. "That will be fine, Prompto. I'll make sure one of the vehicles is prepared for your departure. Gladio and Ignis? I assume you guys will be heading out tomorrow, then?" With two curt nods, Cor stood up straighter. "Great. Since there is nothing else left to discuss, I'll see no further reason to keep everyone here any longer."

Everyone stood up, an air of foreboding settling over everyone. The tension was thick and the group moved with little motivation in their steps. The Marshal broke the silence, again. "Gentlemen, it has been an honor watching you three grow into fine young men."

Aranea grunted, rolling her eyes. "Sheesh, Marshal. You're acting like this is goodbye or something. They know what they're doing. I mean, hell, even Specs, with his injury, fights ten times better than he did at the start of the Darkness. Give them some credit, why don't you. They'll be back."

The room went still with everyone's eyes completely averted from Aranea's, save for Ignis who continued to face in her direction. When no one spoke up, she balled her fists. "Alright, what's the deal? You're all acting like there's something more to this whole thing. Ignis . . . what's going on? You  _are_  coming back, aren't you? You've trained and fought for ten years with these guys and with me. You guys are coming back."

Prompto let out a low whistle. "Here we go . . ."

Even though his face remained composed, Ignis was a wreck inside. "I'm so sorry . . . I wanted to tell you sooner."

"Tell me  _sooner_? What do you  _mean_  'tell me sooner'? What could you  _possibly_  have to tell me other than 'Alright, Aranea. I'll be home shortly and I love you'?"

His mouth had gone dry and he struggled to find the words. Cor stood off to the side, a firm frown planted on his face while Gladio started to nudge Prompto and Iris out of the room. "Oh, no. You three stay  _right there_ ," she yelled, halting the two men and the young woman in their tracks before they could even make it to the door. "You guys are just as bad as he is if you also know what it is that he's hiding. Now, one of you better explain what is going on and why everyone except me seems dead set on believing that this is goodbye and not 'see you later'."

Everyone looked at Ignis as he took a deep breath.

_Now or never._

"It appears, in my quest to figure out who Ardyn Izunia is—or whatever surname he chooses to go by—I have also uncovered the only way to rid the world of his evil and eternal night."

"And?"

He shifted in his spot, uncomfortable. "Only the Chosen King can go forward and defeat Ardyn. By doing so, light shall be restored to Eos. The stipulation is that the Chosen King must sacrifice himself to do so."

Aranea shrugged. "Thanks for the history lesson, Specs, but what does that have to do with you?" The longer he kept his eye trained in her direction and the longer the quiet dragged on, the more Aranea understood. She shook her head and scoffed. "That's funny. This is all  _really_  fucking funny. So, you mean to tell me that this  _whole_  time, your precious prince was the destined Chosen King and you three are his knights in shining armor? He has to die and you . . . that means you three . . . And you . . ." she suddenly choked on her words and bit her lower lip to stave the onset of emotions. "You knew. You knew this and you kept it from me."

"I only just stumbled on this a short time ago, but . . . yes. Yes, I knew."

The sound of her low laugh scared everyone standing in the room. "So, what about all that bullshit you fed me about a life in Insomnia? About nothing ever happening to us? To you? Thought playing house was fun so you wanted to keep me in the dark about, you know, the real shit going on in your life? Goddammit, Ignis, how could you? How could you keep something like that from me?"

"I wanted to tell you. I just . . . do you understand how hard it is for me to come to terms with what is being asked of me? Of us? Of Noctis?"

"Don't justify it to me. Don't you fucking justify it!" She was screaming and Ignis flinched as she jabbed a finger into his chest. "You knew this  _whole_  fucking time and you thought, 'Oh! Great idea! I'm going to hide this from her and hope she doesn't find out!'"

"No, it's . . . Aranea, it's not like that!"

"It sure as fuck  _looks_  like it! You're a fucking coward, you know that? You were going to go away and leave me here alone with our fucking child because you weren't man enough to tell me that you were headed off to Insomnia with a target strapped to your back by the fucking Gods of Eos."

"I didn't," he winced, heart palpitating. She was furious, and rightfully so. "Please understand that I was only doing it to protect you."

"Protect me? You hid it because you wanted to  _protect me?_  Fuck you. Seriously, fuck you. You fucking selfish asshole. If that excuse helped you sleep at night for however long you were sitting on it, then you're a shittier person than I thought. You think you're this selfless, moral guy, but you're not. Don't bother coming home tonight. Stay at the Levelle for all I care. I can't even look at you right now." She turned to the other three still standing awkwardly around the perimeter of the room. "You all can go to hell. I'm Second-in-Command in this hell hole and, what? I'm pregnant, so I have to be treated with kid gloves? I'm . . . I need to get out of here. I can't be here anymore."

Ignis stood in the middle of the room as she stormed passed him, slamming the door behind her. Iris mumbled something about going to check on her and pardoned herself from the room while Prompto coughed nervously and approached Ignis from the side. "Dude, you should have at least warned her."

"Thanks, Prompto," Ignis spat, his tone dripping sarcasm.

"Give her some time," Gladio advised while Cor grunted his consensus. "This is hard for all of us. But, seriously, you should have said something sooner. In the meantime, come back to the Levelle. I'm almost positive your Kingsglaive uniform is still hanging in the back of your closet. You can hang out for a bit and grab it until she's cooled off a bit."

Dejected, Ignis allowed himself to be led from the room by Prompto and Gladio after a firm handshake and some parting words with Cor.

As they lumbered back to the Levelle, Ignis turned to Prompto. "Might I ask a favor of you?"

The blonde blinked. "Uh . . . yeah? What's up?"

"I need your help penning a letter. Also, you may have a photo that I would be interested in taking off your hands."

Prompto nodded earnestly. "Yeah. Whatever you need, I'll be glad to help. You know that."

They walked in unison through the Levelle arches and up the stairs to the old room that Ignis once occupied with them.

* * *

 

After several hours and with his Kingsglaive uniform in hand, Ignis made the trek across the courtyard to the apartment building where he lived. Prompto packed up a few of his belongings, including his own uniform, and told the men he'd meet them in Hammerhead. Gladio also parted ways, saying he wanted to spend some time with Iris and then remained vague about whoever else he was visiting—though it was clear that he was off to visit his not-so-secret lover.

It was so reminiscent of their fight earlier that week where Ignis came crawling back after a few hours, knocking at the bedroom door ever so softly, only this time Aranea didn't say anything out loud or give any indication that he was welcome in. He pressed his luck and opened the door, surprised that it wasn't locked. With a careful and trembling step, he crossed into the bedroom and placed the uniform on a random hook along the wall.

"Cute outfit." Her voice was cold and bitter. If looks could kill, Ignis truly thought he'd have perished upon entering that room.

He removed his glasses from his face and put them, along with the gloves he peeled from his hands, on the desk off to the side. "It's the attire that all the men and women are to wear in the Kingsglaive. Prompto, Gladio, and I received ours before our departure from Insomnia. We were to don them at Noctis' wedding. However . . . " Ignis faded off. He took a few steps and stood where he knew the foot of the bed to be. "I didn't come here to dazzle you with my uniform."

Aranea glared at him in the dull light. "So, why  _are_ you here, then?"

"Please, Aranea," he whispered, standing there so awkward and unsure of himself. "I've practiced my apology over and over in my head, but it falls flat. I just don't have the words."

"You could start with  _why_."

"Fair enough," he exhaled, his composure frayed. "The last thing I ever wanted to do was to hurt you. After you told me about your prior lover and the chain of events leading to your falling apart and his death, I knew I couldn't involve you in my life. Noctis, my duty—that is who I am. It always has been and I can't just throw that part of myself away. That part of me always came first. I put everything else second.

"As the years went on, I came to the conclusion that couldn't live my life without you in it. I took that leap when I asked you to fall with me. I didn't make that choice lightly and, at the time, I had  _no_  idea about the true meaning of the Prophecy. When I learned of what it entailed—what it possibly meant for me—I had every intention of telling you when I was able to come to terms with it myself, even if it meant reneging on my promises. I'd hoped that, when I could tell you, you'd understand.

"But, that was the same day that you told me you were pregnant and I couldn't. To put that burden on you . . . it was more than I could bear. And the days passed and I . . . I couldn't even speak the words out loud.

"I shouldn't stand here and beg for your forgiveness. I know I shouldn't but, from the bottom of my heart, I am so sorry. It was deceitful what I did and I should trust that you're stronger than I give you credit for."

He wanted to take her in his arms, to shield her from the hurt, but he waited for her to give any sort of hint or signal that she wanted him near her at all. Eventually, he heard her sniffle and huff. "Well, yeah, you should. I'm stronger than you and your friends combined. For Astral's sake, I almost had your sorry asses the first time we met if it weren't for your stupid . . . what do you call that one technique you do?"

Ignis' cheeks flushed pink. "Oh. Er . . . overwhelm?"

"Yeah. That one. It's a bitch move, you know that? Dogpiling some poor, innocent woman as she's trying to catch her breath."

"My love, you were never a poor, innocent woman," he chuckled and took her barb as permission to approach and kneel in front of her, placing his forearms across her lap. Her fingers were on his face, tracing the raised skin of his scars and he leaned into the gesture with a shuddering breath as they went back to being serious. "I've never had a single regret about anything in my life. Never. But, Six, I am beyond bitter about my destiny. Knowing that I'm walking away from you? Darling, you can't possibly understand how much that destroys me."

"Oh, I have an idea. Trust me, I do. In fact, it's taking all I have not to lock you up in this room and throw away the key," she mumbled, voice cracking as she teetered on the edge of a breakdown. "You know, I haven't regretted a single thing about this. Us. You and me. It took a long time for us to get here, but I wouldn't take a second of it back. You know that, right?"

Ignis forced a sad smile. He couldn't even fake happiness anymore. "Neither would I. I only regret that I didn't act on my feelings for you sooner."

"Eh, don't be. It made our getting together that much hotter. All that sexual tension? Admit it, Specs; you know it's true."

He chuckled. "Even in the midst of a tragedy, you'll still find any opportunity to bring up sex."

"What can I say? You bring out the sexual deviant in me." They both laughed again, quietly, before Aranea sighed. "For real, though, Ignis. I love you. If this is . . . if this is what you have to do, then I support you. I would never want to stand in the way of your destiny. Whether you come back or not, I will . . . I . . ." she tried to finish the sentence, but the words remained lodged in her throat and she pursed her lips.

Still on his knees, he moved one of his hands up to her face, caressing her cheek and feeling the wet trails that her tears had left behind. "Kiss me," he whispered.

His request was almost too quiet and, for a moment, he wondered if he'd need to repeat what he asked. Neither one moved until Aranea finally leaned forward, her lips soft and sweet on his. Initially, their kiss was slow and sorrowful with a touch of hesitancy. It tasted like the saltiness of her tears paired with the sullenness in his heart. The tempo gradually picked up and Ignis realized he was being pulled up and onto their bed. He took control, positioning her on her back as he deepened their kiss with his tongue. They grew passionate and needy, their desperation palpable.

Ignis' lips moved to her jaw and then to her ear, whispering everything and nothing at the same time as she writhed under his hold on her. He kissed down her neck to her collarbone, pushing her shirt up so he could place his lips on her bare skin, trailing all the way down to her pregnant stomach.

When he reached her belly, he paused and ran a hand across her stomach as his breathing hitched. Aranea threaded her fingers in his hair, her heart racing as he planted kiss after kiss on her belly before laying his forehead there. After a solid minute or two, he turned his face to Aranea's and she tugged him back up to her.

"Make love to me."

It sounded so raw and heartbreaking coming from her, Ignis thought. It hurt more than either of them could fathom, knowing it may very well be the last time. Nonetheless, he nodded, both shifting so they could burrow under the covers. Ignis pulled the sheets up and over them as if to shelter themselves from the world and what was to come.

He made a quiet promise to love her again and again through the night until sleep wouldn't allow them to continue anymore.

And they did, only stopping when they succumbed to exhaustion and enervation.

* * *

 

Aranea stirred, naked and sweating in a tangled mess of sheets. She was roused by the soft pitter-patter of baby kicks from within. Grumbling under her breath, she rubbed at the feeling. "Yeah, I know. You're awake. I get it. No need to wake mommy up, too," she muttered. Still half-asleep, she reached to the other side of the bed for Ignis. Instead, her hand made contact with an unmade bed and a piece of paper with a glossy picture beside it.

Dread clawed at her insides and Aranea sat up with a start. Now that she realized it, the apartment was entirely too silent. Usually, if Ignis was awake, he'd be making quiet noise in the kitchen, cooking breakfast while humming a soft tune. There would be the clatter of pots and pans as he moved about, no doubt lost in the happiness of concocting a delicious meal. This morning, there was none of that. The silence was deafening.

It dawned on her that the Kingsglaive uniform he'd brought home the night before was missing from the hook that he hung it on. His glasses and gloves were also gone.

She grasped at the paper and noticed it was a note. The picture beside it was the one taken on the night of Ignis' birthday by Prompto. It was the same picture of them dancing in the middle of the bar with eyes only for each other. They looked so in love and high on happiness—or maybe it was just the excess alcohol they'd imbibed in that evening. Either way, Aranea remembered looking up at Ignis' face and feeling nothing but absolute bliss at being in his arms.

Eventually, she tore her eyes away and started to read the letter, written in Prompto's handwriting. Ignis must have commissioned his help for this because there was no way that Ignis' handwriting was this messy. She'd seen his recipe notebook. That handwriting was narrow and elegant; this was sloppy at best.

 _My Darling Aranea_ ,

_It is with a heavy heart that I head to Insomnia and it pains me knowing that you will be alone. This is, by far, the hardest thing I've ever had to do—walking away from you and our daughter. I would give anything for one more day—one more minute—with you both. Instead, I find that I've been called by the Gods and by fate to stand at Noctis' side._

_Would that I could stay with you, always. I don't believe I ever told you, but I always envisioned us settling down in Insomnia together when this was all over. Silly snippets of what our future would have been like have run rampant through my mind, more so now that the end is upon us. A dinner as a family every evening. Outings to the park and theater. Bedtime stories to our child every night. If we ever fought, it wouldn't be for long as we'd be too in love to let such trivial matters drive us apart. We'd tuck our daughter in for bed and we'd retire to our own room where we'd laugh at the stresses of our days and we'd make love until we fell asleep in each other's arms._

_Please, go forth. Go on and live your life. Show our daughter the world. Show her how beautiful life can be now that the sun has returned. Take her to Steyliff where we first ventured through Royal Tombs together. Take her where we had our first run-in at Vaullerey (but maybe leave out the bit where you were ordered to kill us). Tell our daughter how you became the shining beacon of hope in this world and how her father will forever be grateful for the moment that her mother agreed—grudgingly, might I add—to help as he relearned to navigate a world so cold and ruthless._

_Do this for me, my love. It's more than I could ever ask for._

_I will love you, always._

_Ignis  
(written by Prompto :) _ _)_

Aranea couldn't even crack a smile at the parenthetical remark and the smiley face that Prompto had written and drawn, obviously done to lessen the sadness of the letter—without Ignis' knowledge, she was sure.

She wanted to hate the situation—hate the Gods, hate the world, hate herself for falling so hard for Ignis when she'd been perfectly content with the notion of living alone the rest of her life—but she couldn't find the strength to muster up such emotions. Instead, her face crumpled and she laid back down with the letter and photograph clenched in her one hand and the other resting on her stomach, sobbing into her pillow.

* * *

 

Ignis held a mug of lukewarm coffee between his hands. The three were sitting wordlessly in front of an old TV in Takka's old restaurant. The radio at the other end of the building blared static and conversations between various daemon hunters across Lucis and it did well to break up the tension in the room.

The endless taunting between the three friends helped as well.

"So where did you head off to last night, Gladio?" Prompto smirked, taking a sip of his water.

"Ah, you know. Just here and there. Sat with Iris for a while and then hung out with a friend. No big deal."

"Oh. Hm.  _'Friend.'_  Say, Ignis, aren't all of Gladio's friends right here?"

Ignis pretended to think, his fingers tapping at his chin mockingly. "I dare say you're right, Prompto. Gladio, what other friend could you  _possibly_  know aside from the ones sitting beside you?"

Gladio waved a large hand, rolling his eyes. "Fine. Maybe a little more than a friend. Don't act so childish about it," he groaned. Ignis and Prompto snorted in response, knowing full well that Gladio had become quite smitten with the bartender in Lestallum. He was an awful liar when it came to his emotions, always wearing his heart on his sleeve, so the two were quick to pick up on how serious Gladio was about this woman.

They stopped giggling though when Gladio turned his ire toward the blonde sharpshooter. "What about you, Prom? Any luck with Ms. Cindy last night? After all, you got here pretty damn early. Almost a solid twelve hours before I got here. I'd say that's more than enough time to at least get in a quick smooch . . . or mooorreee?"

"Bite me, asshole," Prompto snapped, suddenly defensive. That pretty much told Ignis and Gladio all they needed to know and they broke into a fit of giggles again.

"Come on, you know I'm just playing. She's just super into her work. You know it's not you."

Prompto shirked the comforting words, mumbling and sulking into his water. As they quieted down, the radio still resounding in the background, the sound of Gladio's phone rang from his pants pocket. They tensed up and Gladio inhaled sharply when he looked at the caller ID. "Shit. It's Talcott."

"Well, pick it up!" Prompto screeched, practically throwing himself across the bench seats to reach for the phone himself.

Gladio held it away from him and pressed the green button on the screen to answer. "Talcott? Yeah. Is everything ok?"

There was the faint sound of a voice on the other end of the line, barely audible to Prompto and Ignis, talking low and steady. Gladio's face split into a beaming grin and his laughter startled Ignis. "You . . . no way. Where? Galdin? How does he look? Is he ok? . . . Well, put him on the phone! I have some words for him for staying away for so long."

Prompto was vibrating in his seat with excitement. "Is that Noct? Does Talcott have Noct?"

Gladio shushed him and then laughed again. "Well, tell that son of a bitch to get his ass over here! . . . Alright. Drive safe, Talcott. See you soon. Yeah, we're in Hammerhead. Awesome. Bye." Gladio hung up the phone and looked more animated than he'd looked in the last ten years. "He's in Talcott's truck with Umbra. They'll be here soon. Talcott said he looks a little ragged, but otherwise unharmed."

While Prompto fired off a million questions, Ignis kept to himself, ruminating everything in his head. Ten years in the blink of an eye and suddenly his King was in a truck bound for them. He tried to listen to the conversation that Prompto and Gladio were having, but it was hard to focus. Ignis was wracked with nerves, but the good kind. Almost like a kid waiting for their birthday, knowing they'd be showered with presents galore.

The minutes seemed to drag, but finally the squeal of the chain-linked fence opening up made everyone's hearts stop. Tires crunched over errant gravel and the low hum of the engine ceased as Talcott turned the truck off. Already, Gladio was on his feet, strolling outside as Prompto pushed Ignis out of the booth seat so they could join him.

The passenger door creaked open and a pair of footsteps landed hard on the ground. Gladio was still walking ahead and Ignis smiled as Prompto tugged at his jacket sleeve. "It's him," he hissed. "Oh my Gods, Iggy, it's him! He's back!"

"Hey," Noctis greeted. It was nonchalant, like they'd all just seen each other earlier that day. The voice sounded exactly as it did before he entered the crystal, only now it was confident and noble. Even the way he walked sounded different. Ignis couldn't put a finger on it, but the ten years had unquestionably changed his charge for the better.

"' _Hey?'_  Is that all you have to say for yourself after all these years?" Gladio teased, shoving the King by the shoulder.

"Noct, it's you! It's really you!" Prompto cried, circling his old best friend with wonder and amazement in his body language—almost as if he wasn't real. Noctis cracked a joke about how it really was him, but then Ignis knew Noctis caught sight of him by the way he stopped his laughing.

"Well, well," the advisor said with a hint of pride, "you kept us waiting."

It was a cool acknowledgment, but Ignis wasn't sure what else to say. There was so much and, yet, not enough time. How could anyone fit ten years into a single night? At most, 24 hours?

Noctis' hand clamped down on Ignis' shoulder and, initially, Ignis was stunned. It didn't seem real. But it was. His childhood friend's hand was on his shoulder. Reassuring. Heartfelt. He relaxed as Noctis replied, "Not like I wanted to be."

Ignis wanted to tell him that he understood. That he was sure if Noct had it his way, he would've come back far sooner, but Noctis stepped back to survey the men standing before him and Ignis waited for his next words. Noctis was no longer a prince. He'd become a king.

It was overwhelming.

Upon Noctis' suggestion, they all made their way over to the caravan, finding a seat at the plastic outdoor table and chairs, ready to make up for lost time.

* * *

 

They'd decided to spend one night in the caravan before making their way to the campsite just outside the Insomnian walls. Dressed in their Kingsglaive attire, they set out the following day.

Their last campfire.

The thought chilled Ignis' blood as he manned the stove, cooking for the men who laughed jovially around the campfire that Gladio built. It was like no time had passed and they quickly fell back into old patterns—cracking jokes and catching up. Prompto sounded like his old self for the first time since Noctis disappeared and he showed the King all the pictures he'd taken over the last ten years.

"Oh! Here's one of Cid working on your dad's old boat. It apparently drifted off to Angelguard after Iggy, Aranea, Cid, and Talcott were ambushed in Galdin."

Noctis hummed. "Ahhh . . . so  _that's_  how that got there! I was wondering how the hell the boat washed ashore there when I came to. I honestly thought Bahamut pulled some strings or something and had it conveniently put there."

"Nah, dude. Or . . . hmmm . . . maybe Bahamut put those events into motion? Eh, who knows. It's all too complicated for my sleep-deprived brain. Anyway! Here's a picture of me shooting at an Imp. Oh oh oh! Look at this one! Oh, eh, that one was just me messing with lighting and angles."

When Prompto came up on a picture of Ignis and Aranea looking particularly cozy, Noctis howled, yanking the camera from Prompto's hands and studying it carefully. "No way! Specs! You and Aranea?!"

Ignis hid a smile while Prompto nodded enthusiastically. "Ha! Right?"

"When did this happen?!"

"Oh, dude, it was crazy! First, she was just his sparring partner, then she kissed him after we defeated Cerberus—yeah, I'll get to that fight later—and then they waited for, like, a majority of the ten years to  _finally_  admit they liked each other and Iggy got birthday sex and they've been together ever since!" Prompto rattled off.

"Well, that's quite the story. Never would have pegged Specs with the Commodore, but I guess it makes sense. Glad to know she was the one to pull that stick from your ass and force you to have some fun." Noctis scrunched his nose as a new thought hit him. "But . . . while I'm happy that it's the four of us, she was more than welcome to join us if that was what you wanted. Where is she?"

Gladio snorted, moving his jacket to the back of his seat so he could sit comfortably. "Would you believe it if I told you she's on modified bed rest because  _someone_  knocked her up?"

Now, the King's eyes were as wide as humanly possible. "No . . . way . . ." he whispered in disbelief. "How am I  _just_  learning about this? Why was this not the first thing you guys said to me as I got out of the truck? Ignis, wow! Congratulations! You must be excited!"

The mood turned somber and Ignis kept his blind gaze trained toward the pot on the stove. Gladio pursed his lips and Prompto tried to show Noctis more photos, but Ignis could feel his King's stare on his back. Another minute and Noctis was excusing himself from Prompto as he made his way to Ignis' side.

"Majesty," Ignis smiled without turning to face Noctis.

The King snorted. "Always with the formalities. Some things never change."

"And some things do," he replied in jest.

A slow nod. "Boy or girl?"

"Girl."

"That's incredible," Noctis said happily. "Have any names picked out? The nursery planned?"

Ignis pointed in the general direction of where the dishes were on his prepping station. "Hand me some bowls, would you? Dinner's about ready."

He blinked before sighing, grabbing the bowls as requested and setting them out, side by side, so Ignis could start serving the food. "Was it an accident? Is that why you're refusing to acknowledge the fact that you have a child on the way?"

"Noct, please. I am in the middle of cooking. I don't have time— "

"Or," he interrupted, shoving the bowls into Ignis' waiting hands, "is it because you are afraid you won't come back alive?" When Ignis flinched, Noctis nodded and leaned against the station with his arms crossed. "Ah, there we go. Progress."

Ignis shook his head and filled each bowl with the food. "I took an oath, Noct; I swore to protect you. I was tasked as Insomnia's leading tactician and not having the answers to resolve this scenario in such a way where we all get out alive is tough. Learning that you were the Chosen King and that we all have a prophecy to fulfill hasn't been particularly easy on us. This is uncharted territory for me, so forgive me for lacking the words necessary to talk about anything regarding my life or where we go from here."

"Fair enough," Noctis agreed, falling back into silence as he thought about Ignis' words. "However, the Gods only need the blood of the Chosen King. It's never been explicitly stated that the others in that Prophecy painting need to fall for light to return."

Ignis didn't say anything and he felt Noctis' firm hand on his shoulder. "All I ask is that when we make our way to the Citadel steps, you, Gladio, and Prompto fight like hell to keep those daemons back. They'll want to stop me as I make my Ascension. If you can hold them off, we stand a chance of sending you guys back to Lestallum in one piece in time to see the sun rise and for you to watch your daughter grow up. After all, who else is going to rebuild Insomnia? We all know Cor's old ass won't want to be in charge by that point."

The last line brought a chuckle out of Ignis and he gave a half-smile. "You've grown into a fine young man. Your father would be proud of the King you've become."

"Ahh, well . . . I've had some amazing brothers help me along the way." Noctis started to step away, hands full with two of the four bowls, but he stopped and looked over his shoulder "One other thing?"

Ignis looked up, a bowl of food in each hand as he followed behind. "Yes, Majesty?"

"When light has been restored, please do me a favor and open your own restaurant. If you can't cook for me, you can at least cook for the people of Insomnia. And, who knows? You might get a brooding, jerk of a customer who hates vegetables as much as I did."

They laughed. "As you wish."

"If anyone can do it, it's you," Noctis smirked. "Now, come on; let's eat."

That last supper was full of emotion. They went back to laughing at first, but eventually Noctis' positive demeanor waned and Ignis noticed. Even blind, he could easily pinpoint his charge's mood changes. "Noct? Something the matter?"

Noctis worked through his words and emotions and Ignis waited patiently for him to voice his thoughts. "The four of us around a campfire," he pondered aloud. "How long's it been?"

The advisor leaned forward so his elbows were resting on his knees. "An eternity." It wasn't an exaggeration. It sure  _felt_  like an eternity. Ten years without a single word or any sort of communication between them and Noctis had made the last decade crawl at an agonizing pace.

"So, yeah." The King took a shaking breath. "I, um . . ."

"Out with it," Gladio commanded, his arms crossed intimidatingly across his chest.

He tried again. "I just . . ." A frustrated grunt. "Dammit . . . why the hell is this so hard?"

The fire splintered the wood and shot embers into the dark air. Noctis stuttered, clenching and unclenching his fists. For the first time since reuniting with the three, Ignis could tell his façade of strength was crumbling. He was struggling now, more than ever, to reconcile with his fate. It was probably an easy thing to accept with none of his loved ones around, but now? Now that they'd all caught up and fallen back into old patterns and habits? Ignis would have given anything to take that pain away from him and he'd have gladly shouldered it himself.

"So I've . . . I've made my peace," he confessed. "Still . . . knowing this is it? And seeing you here now? It's . . ." Noctis stopped, the painful mass of emotions lodged in his throat. He narrowed his eyes as tears formed, gritting his teeth. ". . . more than I can take."

Noctis dropped his head, attempting to stifle the sobs. One by one, Ignis heard the other men falter in their equanimity and Ignis realized he, too, had started to cry. The tears fell down his cheeks, leaving a cold trail behind.

Gladio looked to the dark, clouded sky as Prompto laughed weakly. "Heh, you're damn right it is."

"Huh," the Shield grunted, blinking back more tears. "You spit it out."

"It's good to hear," Ignis sighed a trembling breath, unsure of what else to say. And, honestly, what could he say that would make it better?

Noctis rose to his feet, taking a single step toward the three friends. Ignis wanted to grab his King's hand, get on his knees and beg him to stay. It didn't have to be like this. He didn't have to go. Surely there was some other way. The Astrals couldn't possibly this cruel—and yet, here they were, ready to give their lives if that was how it had it be. How on Eos did it get to this point?

It wasn't fair.

Noctis' smile reached his eyes. "Well . . . what can I say?"

Another sob. Someone else sniffled. Ignis wasn't sure who was crying harder at this point, but he faced Noctis and tried to put on a brave face, as hard as it was.

One more deep breath.

"You guys . . . are the best."

* * *

 

They all tried to sleep but it was damn near impossible with the weight of the next day pressed against them. It was suggested that they just get up and head into the city if they weren't going to be sleeping anyway. With heavy hearts, they dragged their feet out of the tent and shrugged their uniform jackets on.

It wasn't even a thought to pack everything up. The chairs, the tent, the camping stove; all of it stayed exactly where it was set up. Without anything needing to be said, the four gathered in a hug, heads together and arms wrapped around each other. All these years and Ignis realized this was the first time the four of them embraced like this. The tears started again and they laughed, embarrassed, brushing the drops away with haste.

"Gentlemen? Shall we?" Ignis suggested upon pulling away, running a finger under his eye to wipe away another tear.

"Right," Noctis smiled when Gladio slapped him on the back. "We have a city to salvage, a throne to reclaim, and an evil, grudge-holding Chancellor to take down."

And together they marched into the ruins of the city they once called home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I apologize for the delay in this chapter's release. Obviously, as you can see, it covered a lot of ground and I didn't want to put a half-finished chapter up just for deadline's sake. :) I debated cutting it up into two different chapters, and honestly I may go back and do that after I complete the story, but for now it's one super long chapter :D
> 
> I won't lie, I did tear up writing this chapter. It was an emotional few scenes! Only two more chapters!
> 
> I'm loving everyone's reactions and guesses to how this will end. Keep the comments coming. You know I live for that little notification that someone commented and kudoed my work :D Thanks so much for the constant support and feedback. It's been a wild ride these last six months and I couldn't have gotten through all of this without you all :)


	22. Dawn

**Water Under the Bridge  
Dawn**

Aranea lost count of how many days Ignis had been gone. It wasn't that long, but it felt like years. Centuries, even. Now, she was going through the motions of waking up, eating, and putting on a hardened front for the citizens of Lestallum so they wouldn't be afraid. After all, she was someone they all looked up to. Whether she wanted to or not, she had to stay strong for them.

Inside, though, was a completely different scenario. It was weird. She felt empty, walking around in a daze more often than not. Cor, Iris, Biggs, and Wedge were constantly repeating themselves as Aranea found it hard to concentrate and comprehend what they were saying. She hated the sympathetic looks they gave her, but she remained cold and distant, unable to scream or cry. More than once, Iris implored Aranea to come back to their hotel room and stay there, but Aranea declined. If she took Iris up on her offer, then that would mean not being around the bed that she shared with Ignis. It meant being away from the closet of his clothes that still smelled like him. It meant having no physical reminder to ground herself when all she wanted to do was zone out.

Despite the crushing grief that sat heavy in Aranea's heart and soul, there was also something else there as well. It wasn't all despair. Underneath it all, there was the swell of pride knowing Ignis worked hard to get to this point. He could have laid down and wallowed in pity for the last ten years, but he didn't. That wasn't who he was. It was always about getting better. Faster. Stronger. Anything to ensure he could hold his own on the war front and protect Noctis. No matter what anyone else said, his faith and tenacity never wavered. Frankly, it was just another thing about him that Aranea loved.

One quiet, dark afternoon, Iris forced Aranea to open the door to her apartment and let her in for some company. She was just as heartbroken as Aranea with Gladio gone as well. Maybe, Aranea thought, Iris needed a distraction more so than she did herself. That's how Aranea found her head in Iris' lap, both on the couch while Iris braided and unbraided Aranea's silver hair numerous times.

"How're you feeling? Your pregnancy, I mean," the daemon hunter questioned quietly, desperate to make conversation. Anything to take their minds away from the scorching pain they felt.

"Still ok. Nothing crazy. I feel like she's picking up on my stress because she's a little more subdued, but still kicking around. Oh, shit. Spoke too soon," she flinched, fingers flying to the side of her stomach and pressing at the sensation. "I'd piss my pants if she had it her way. The little brat loves to push against my bladder lately."

Iris muffled a laugh. "Awww, don't call her that. She just wants to say hello in her own way."

"I guess. Doesn't mean I don't find it annoying as hell." Aranea moved to get comfortable again, sitting up and then lying back down so her head was nestled right back where it was in Iris' lap. There was an odd silence that irritated Aranea and she flicked her eyes upward to Iris. "What? What are you upset about now?"

She sniffled and blinked back some tears. "Doesn't it bother you that your daughter may never know her father?"

"Iris . . ."

"Oh, I know, I shouldn't get all crazy emotional or anything, but I can't help it. It's not fair. I mean, the Amicitias pretty much resigned to the fact that we could possibly die an early death. It is what it is, you know? But this wasn't what I was expecting when my dad sat me down as a child and told me all about our duties to the King. I figured—hey, where are you going?"

Aranea pulled herself up and stalked away, not wanting to hear any more of what Iris was rambling on about. Iris was on her feet now also and followed after the Commodore. "Look, I'm sorry! I know it's hard to talk about— "

"Astrals, Iris, just fucking stop, ok? The whole point of you coming over was to just sit and talk about stupid shit, not dredge up all of . . .  _this_ ," she barked, waving her hands abstractedly. "If you want to vent, fine; but keep me out of it."

Iris bit her lower lip and drew her eyebrows together. "So, what? Are you just going to shut everyone out? We're  _all_  hurting, you know!"

"Alright, that's it, sweetheart; I'm not dealing with this today."

"Dammit, Aranea, I'm not leaving!"

Aranea whirled around and growled. "Iris, I'm warning you . . ."

"What? You don't think I've completely overlooked the fact that you walk around like a zombie? That you completely stopped caring about how your hair looks? Or that you have the worst bags under your eyes because you don't sleep anymore? It's  _ok_ to miss him and cry over him! He's the father of your child! Why won't you let yourself just feel that?"

"Because it hurts too damn much!" Aranea snapped, nose turning a shade of red as tears formed at the corners of her eyes. "Is that what you want to hear? I shut down because I don't  _want_ to feel this! I don't  _want_ to feel like something's missing, or like I can't go on in life anymore. Everything was going  _just fine_ before he decided to worm his way into my life and I don't . . . I can't . . . "

Aranea's legs gave out from under her and Iris rushed over, catching her and letting her down gently to the ground as Aranea hiccupped and wept. Iris, too, started to cry again as she uttered hopeful words in her friend's ear. How maybe, just maybe, the guys would come back. That everything would be just fine. They were just upset over nothing.

But it all fell on deaf ears as Aranea toppled over that edge and into the depths of a breakdown, the floodgates to everything she held back finally unleashed.

* * *

They battled daemons on the road to the Citadel.

They took down the Behemoth that guarded the gates.

Their uniforms were scorched and tattered after going head-to-head against Ifrit, the Infernian God.

All four attempted to stand off against Ardyn in the Throne Room, but that was not meant to be as Ignis realized he was conscious one second and suffocating the next. He dropped to his knees and felt the sensation of falling deep into an abyss. Then, he woke up on the cold marble of the Citadel floor. How long he was out for, he had no idea, but Gladio pulled him up and, together, the three stumbled outside to look for Noctis.

Rain fell and the air had taken on a slight freeze, unusual for this time of year—especially within the confines of the Wall. The raindrops pelted Ignis' hair and shoulders, slowly soaking him to the bone. Usually, weather like this would chill someone, but Ignis was numb. The entire thing was completely absurd.

"So, this is farewell," Ignis noted with finality. All these years. Everything. It all boiled down to this.

"Yeah," Noctis said. "Here we are."

It sounded awful. Trite. Barren.

Gladio stood tall and Ignis turned an ear in his direction. "It's all you." As if there was another way. Like it was some sort of compliment. Ignis knew Gladio didn't mean it as such, but still.

"No turning back now," Prompto took a step forward. It was like he  _wanted_  to chase after Noctis. Now's not the time, Ignis thought. He mentally chided the sharpshooter for failing to remain at attention, but at the same time, he understood.

Noctis turned away. Step by step by step, he began his ascent to the throne. Then, he stopped and turned. For a fleeting second, Ignis hoped that he reconsidered his destiny, but that would have been something the old Noctis would've done. This Noctis—King Noctis Lucis Caelum—was not about to shirk his responsibilities.

"Prompto. Gladio. Ignis," he named in a solemn tone. "I leave it to you. Walk tall, my friends."

Ignis bowed his head and then looked in Noctis' direction. As much as it killed Ignis to let go, he was so full of pride for his friend. Noctis really had come a long way. "Godspeed . . . and take care, Majesty."

As Ignis, Gladio, and Prompto bowed to their King, the familiar sound of daemons rising up interrupted their goodbyes. Dread pooled in Ignis' stomach and he felt his muscles clench tightly with anticipation.

Noctis also realized how precarious their situation was if he didn't get upstairs soon. "The time has come," he declared. And, with that, he turned away for a final time.

As Noctis' footsteps paced up the Citadel steps, the three Kingsglaive spun around to face the daemons as they raged from the ground, one after the other. Every type of daemon they'd ever encountered before roared from the depths of Eos. Ignis called his daggers to his possession and inhaled deeply, ready to keep the monsters away from Noctis as he made his Ascension.

"Let's do this," Gladio rallied, his large sword perched on his shoulder as he stepped into the fray, Prompto tracked close behind.

The only way to describe the battle was pandemonium. It had been a long time since Ignis found himself involved in a battle of this magnitude and with so many different foes to contend with. It was hard for him to keep track of who was where at any given moment as more daemons descended on them. At one point, Ignis was  _sure_  that he was throwing a dagger in the direction of a Necromancer, but Prompto's shrill cry alerted him that he'd made a mistake and aimed at his friend instead.

A forceful knock from behind threw Ignis to the ground. He lost track of his daggers as they flew from his hands and clattered to the ground somewhere. Before he could recall them, a daemon—a Bussemand, if he was certain—was on him, attacking without any intention of letting Ignis go alive.

"Prompto! Iggy needs you!" Gladio roared, swiping at a group of weak Goblins but missing a pair of rogue Ronins as they both struck him from either side, blood sputtering from the two sword wounds he received.

The Bussemand reached down and smashed Ignis' skull into the pavement, no doubt earning him a concussion and a wicked gash to go with it. He gathered the willpower from deep inside and called a lance to his aid, jabbing the weapon as hard as he could into the monster's eye. Gore and matter dripped and oozed down the length of the pole and onto Ignis as he twisted it to ensure that the Bussemand was rendered incapacitated. A gunshot rang out and a bullet hit the back of the Bussemand's head, officially killing him.

"You ok, Iggy?" Prompto asked, shooting another round at a daemon.

Ignis didn't respond as he struggled to get up, practically nauseous from the blow to his head, but he managed to stand with the help of his lance. Gladio was off in the distance, attempting to keep a Red Giant from coming any further toward the Citadel. Prompto was closer to Ignis' right, firing round after round of bullets from the gun's chambers. The advisor pushed any thoughts of illness to the back of his mind, forcing himself to focus instead on another group of daemons.

Ignis thought he heard Prompto scream something about running low on ammo. And, wait; did Gladio just scream that he needed backup?

Were they any closer to winning their war on the daemons?

How long would they have to keep at this?

Where was Cor? How come he hadn't come yet?

Maybe this wasn't going to work.

A rock-like  _thing_  rammed Ignis from the side, throwing him a few feet through the air, only for him to crash hard on the ground. Ignis didn't even get a chance to process what was happening before he seized up, electrocuted mercilessly. Only a Thunder Bomb could produce that much voltage, and Ignis felt every bit of it. He screamed in agony, paralyzed and unable to defend himself as a random Salphinx pounced on him once the Thunder Bomb ceased its attack, for that second. The Salphinx took the opportunity slash painful wounds into Ignis while he was down.

Gladio shouted once more for assistance, another Red Giant now added to his list of problems. Prompto, on the other hand, heavily weakened and lacking any more ammo to defend himself, was backed into a corner by a Mindflayer and a Psychomancer.

Blood covered Ignis' uniform and he was on his hands and knees, desperate to catch his breath before another shock from the Thunder Bomb coursed through his veins. They were all sorely outmatched and the daemons kept coming. He felt the electricity take hold again and he involuntarily stiffened, sweat pouring from his brow as the Salphinx made another slash on his body, this time on the back of his upper leg.

Everything hurt. Even the very ends of his hair ached.

Ignis started saying his goodbyes in his head, waiting for death's sweet release to take him away. He was growing weak, unable to even hold himself up on all fours and ultimately collapsing to the ground. "Iggy!" Prompto called out. He also tried yelling for Gladio but got nothing in response. The Shield must have taken a hit because he was no longer grunting and exchanging blows with the Red Giants. Prompto screamed, the Psychomancer holding him in a tight death grip.

It was chaotic. Ignis knew they were knocking on death's door, but, without warning, everything stopped. A shockwave of sorts radiated out from the Citadel and obliviated all the daemons and monsters in the vicinity, turning them to purple mist and dust. It sounded like an explosion, a deafening roar that Ignis didn't have the strength to cover his ears from.

The stillness dragged on for an inordinate amount of time, or so Ignis thought. He was paralyzed, struggling to breathe and stay conscious. Somewhere, Prompto was shrieking for help, but whether it was for himself or for Gladio, Ignis didn't know. A boulder shifted and crumbled in the distance, echoing into the dark night.

He tried to focus on the sound of his own shuddering breath while ignoring the painful twitching and contracting of his muscles. Everything was muddled and it confused Ignis. Sounds were becoming muffled and faded in and out. Several footsteps rushed onto the scene and a voice that sounded like Cor's bellowed instructions.

"Marshal! Over here, please!" Prompto begged. "Gladio needs some elixirs or he's not going to make it!"

"Where are your items?"

"We ran out! Please, help us!"

Two pairs of boots stampeded to Ignis' side and started to crack open a few hi-elixirs over his body, scorched and raw from the burns and bleeding wounds, but it barely touched the injuries. "Oi! Marshal, we need more restoratives! 'e's fading fast!" Biggs accented voice alerted

"Who is?"

"The Royal Advisor!"

"Shit! How bad is it?"

"Hard to tell, but we're losin' 'im!"

"Ignis?" Prompto's voice was an octave higher now, fearful and desperate.

More commands were thrown back and forth over the front piazza of the Citadel. Gladio at least had a pulse and he'd begun to breathe after given a Phoenix Down. Prompto's behavior was growing more and more erratic as his two friends lay dying on the ground and plagued with the thought that his best friend was obviously no longer a mortal being on Eos.

"Can someone search the Citadel for His Majesty's body? Anyone?"

"I still need those restoratives for Scientia!"

"GODDAMIT!  _CAN SOMEONE SAVE MY FUCKING FRIENDS?_ "

"Gladio's waking up!"

"How's Ignis doing? Get all the restoratives over to him at once!"

Ignis' head lolled to one side and he heard himself wince in pain. Maybe death wouldn't be so bad, he thought.

And then Noctis' promise to bring back light came to mind.

_So when dawn breaks, you'll know?_

And Aranea.

_I'm pregnant._

His daughter in his arms.

He had to come home. He promised.

But he was suffering from an extraordinary amount of pain. Ignis could practically feel the electricity still surging through every inch of his body, but at least the bleeding stopped . . . maybe? He struggled to stay awake, panting and counting the drops of sweat as they rolled down the sides of his face. Anything to keep his mind occupied instead of fading to black.

"Sir!" a hunter shouted, "I found him! His Majesty! He's in the Throne Room but I can't . . . I need help retrieving his body."

So, he was gone.

Noctis was dead.

Maybe it was the pain of his injuries, the fatigue of the fight, or just the sheer unwillingness to suffer through the heartache, but Ignis slipped away into nothingness. He allowed the peace and comfort to wash over him, covering him like a warm security blanket.

* * *

Ignis' eyes fluttered open. He wanted to say that this was a dream, with the haze around the edges of the scene, but it wasn't. He'd been here before. It was more like he was remembering something, unlike the fabrication of events that come with dreaming.

His shoes clicked on the tile as he took in the beautiful architecture. He was standing in the Citadel entryway as another set of footsteps walked down the hall. Ignis smiled, watching as a young Noctis was escorted down the hall to meet his new advisor.

"Stand up straight, Ignis. We're in the presence of royalty."

"Yes, Uncle."

Ignis whirled around and saw himself at the age of six, standing with his hands clasped in front of him and wearing a pair of glasses a size or two too big. The child wore a white collared shirt under a green vest with khaki shorts, ironed just right so that they creased along the front. It was a brand-new outfit that his mother bought him, right before he was sent to live in the Citadel. His uncle had a hand on his back as Noctis and King Regis approached the pair.

"Ah, I'm glad to see you made it," Regis greeted, eyes shining bright. "I'm very happy that you agreed to look after my son, Ignis. I have no doubts he is in capable hands."

Noctis hid behind his father's leg and Ignis smiled as he viewed his younger self take several steps toward the shy prince. He extended a hand and knelt, uttering a soft introduction to allow the prince to warm up to him. It didn't take long for Noctis to scoot away from his father and, together, the two children toddled away as Noctis babbled on and on about wanting to show Ignis his toys.

There was a rush of cold air and Ignis realized he wasn't in the Citadel entryway anymore. Now, he was in Noctis' apartment, the night before they were set to leave Insomnia for Noctis' wedding.

_Have I died? Is my life actually flashing before my eyes? What are these memories?_

The prince was ashen-faced, mumbling about his impending nuptials and Prompto giggled. Everything was packed and ready to go. They all sat in a circle in the living room playing King's Knight.

"Ignis, what are you going to do now that Noctis is getting married?" Prompto asked without sparing a glance away from his phone.

"Why, the same duties I perform now, though on a far lesser scale. Lady Lunafreya is amenable to my remaining by Noctis' side. At the very core, I'd still be his advisor in royal matters and such."

"You couldn't tear Iggy away from Noctis' side if you threatened his life," Gladio snorted. "Let's just hope His Highness doesn't need you to clean up after him anymore. Think you can keep this place in a decent state, Noct? I've seen how big of a pigsty you let it get and I doubt Luna will stick around long if you can't do something as simple as putting dishes in a dishwasher."

Noctis rolled his eyes. "Yeah, whatever."

_You were so afraid. So many changes in such a short amount of time. How I wish I could've shouldered your burden a little more. You had to grow up so fast._

Ignis was whisked away from the warm and inviting apartment to the cold and harrowing hotel room in Altissia. It was strange, being able to see a scene of his life that he clearly was unable to view at the time. He wanted to scream, the injury ghastly upon his younger self's face. Noctis was sitting in bed with him and they were talking quietly between each other.

"I can't ever forgive myself for letting this happen to you," Noctis wept.

"Highness, please. That's enough. I never, nor will I ever, blamed you for this. I would put myself in harm's way again if it ensured your safety. I only regret that my actions didn't effectively keep the Chancellor away from you and Lady Lunafreya."

"Fuck, Specs! How can you even put any blame on yourself? I shouldn't have agreed to those damn terms made by the First Secretary. It was stupid of me to think that splitting up would be a good idea. This is all my fault and I'm so . . . so sorry." Noctis openly cried, twisting away from Ignis so he didn't have to see the wounds on his face.

_We didn't know. Noct, I hope you made peace with the fact that you had no way of knowing. None of us did. Please, don't guilt yourself anymore._

Ignis was thrust into another scene, but this time it looked like he was placed in some abstract world. Pinks and blues and purples danced around them without anything else in sight. Ignis watched alongside King Regis, Gladio, and Prompto as Noctis floated, strong and graceful, in front of Ardyn. With a hand outstretched, Noctis called upon the kings of Lucis to rid the world of Ardyn and his evil, once and for all. He screamed a guttural sound and unleashed the kings upon the Chancellor before collapsing backward and dissipating in the sea of colors.

Ignis tried to call out to him, but he remained frozen in place and his words died in his throat.

And then, black.

He was alone in a sea of darkness. Every which way he looked, the emptiness stretched on. If this was death, then it was incredibly lonely. Yet, anything was better than going back to a world without Noctis. Why even bother? It wasn't like his life had any purpose or meaning anymore without him.

Yes, Ignis ruminated. He'd stay here forever, no matter how bleak it seemed. It was infinitely more comforting than returning to Eos without Noctis in tow.

But his subconscious had other plans. It wasn't about to let Ignis give up so easily.

The black faded and a new scene unfolded. It was Aranea laying in bed, her baby bump jutting out from her muscular frame. She was wearing one of his button-up shirts, her own shirts too tight around her growing stomach. Ignis smiled, standing unnoticed in the doorway, when he saw himself lean across the bed, capturing her in his arms and proceeding to tickle her, unrelenting.

"Ok! Ok I am ticklish! Fuck, Specs ok you're right!" she cried out in between howling laughter.

"Is this you conceding defeat? Just say the words!"

"Hahahaha no! Wait! Hahahaha ok, ok! Yes, please! Let . . . me . . . gooooo!"

He released her and snickered when she slapped him across the arm. "Asshole! Now you're going to get her all riled up and she'll keep me up for hours with all the kicking and moving she'll do."

He planted kisses on her temple and rubbed her stomach. "All the better for me to feel her against my hand."

"Yeah, well, you're not carrying her and you don't have to worry about her waking you up because she decides to do acrobats in  _your_  stomach at three a.m."

"My apologies, darling," he smiled. From the doorway, Ignis remembered that moment and knew he'd never truly been sorry. By that point, he was just waiting for Noctis' return and he lived for those times where he could feel the baby move under his hand. He loved spending time just him and Aranea, daydreaming about their future together—even though Ignis knew otherwise.

"You're cute when you try to fake an apology, but this time . . ." she had a devious glint in her eyes as her fingers twitched, "it . . . won't . . . work!" and she reached over and found Ignis' ticklish spots. His sides. Under his arms. In the crook of his neck. He laughed harder than he had in recent years, only half-attempting to writhe away from her attack.

Even though he wasn't sure about the mechanics behind why he was able to view these moments, never having been able to see the last three pictured scenes as they occurred prior, he wouldn't question it. Call it a favor from the Gods, perhaps? Instead, Ignis wanted to stay and relive this moment, both him and Aranea enjoying each other's company in their apartment, over and over. It was the first time he'd been able to see what his life looked like.  _Physically, actually see it._ They looked so happy.

Plus, it was the first and only time he was able to see Aranea and what she looked like. Gods, was Aranea beautiful. She'd aged over the ten years, but she maintained that effortless attractiveness that Ignis remembered when they first met all those years ago.

Seeing her now, laughing while their baby grew every day, made Ignis sentimental. How could he be so selfish to want to throw all that away, especially when Noctis specifically mentioned Ignis going back home to his new family? Opening a restaurant. Rebuilding Insomnia. Seeing to it that he be there for his daughter as she grew up.

_I have to go home._

_I need Aranea with me._

_I can't give up. I won't._

He closed his eyes and felt himself drifting again. His life played like a movie reel and sped up. Faster and faster.

_I can't die._

_This can't be the end_.

_Let me go home._

He fell to the ground with a powerful  _thud_  and everything felt real. He wasn't in a dream-like state anymore. His right eye snapped open, back to a world where he lacked sight, and Ignis gasped for breath while the rain continued to fall in a steady curtain around them.

"Ignis? Are you back? Say something. Hey, come on. Are you back with us?" Prompto fired off, hovering over Ignis' tensed body. He'd snatched up a Phoenix Down—or several—and raced to Ignis' side, pushing Biggs away as he fought to save his friend.

There was still chaos everywhere as Cor saw to it that Noctis' body was retrieved, that Gladio was drinking a water bottle offered to him, and that everyone was ok. Ignis turned to Prompto's hand as it gripped his own hand tightly. With what little strength he could muster, he squeezed back. "I'm ready to move out when we're ready," he rasped.

Prompto balked at first and then devolved into nervous yet relieved laughter as he hugged the advisor, tears dripping onto the collar of Ignis' shirt.

It wasn't fair.

It would never  _be_ fair.

Still, Ignis owed it to Noctis to live out the rest of his life with the woman he loved with all his heart and their daughter.

He had to make his King's sacrifice worth it.

* * *

Aranea sat, cross-legged, in the loft of the apartment with the picture of her and Ignis in her hands. She played idly with it between her fingers, flipping it and studying it for any small detail she possibly overlooked before. After her breakdown, she'd gone right back to feeling nothing and powering through the motions. Cor, Biggs, and Wedge, along with a few other advanced hunters, took off toward Insomnia at some point, but Aranea just shrugged. What was the point of them even going? Body retrieval? Scout out the damage?

The fact that the sun still wasn't up didn't bode well in Aranea's mind, so she was quick to cross off 'provide backup' as a possible reason. It was just better if she kept the worst-case scenarios in the forefront of her thoughts—at least then she wouldn't be so depressed if that's the outcome that occurred.

"What do you think, little one? Hm? Think the sun will come up at all? Or are we just going to live in darkness for the rest of our lives?" A soft kick toward the top of her stomach. "Yeah, I hope not, either," she responded, sighing.

The sound of screaming, followed by a cacophony of cheers piqued Aranea's curiosity. She wriggled to get to her feet, her stomach becoming more and more of an obstacle with every passing day. A round window was cracked open slightly and Aranea walked over to it, standing on her tiptoes to peer out over the courtyard it overlooked. She raised an eyebrow as people embraced and jumped up and down. It was a jubilant scene.

Someone pounded on her door and Aranea tore herself away from the window, careful as she descended the narrow staircase. The pounding grew louder and louder and Aranea yelled over the commotion. When she opened the door, she was surprised to see Iris standing there, cheeks flushed while she struggled to catch her breath after speeding to get here.

"They're home."

Aranea stiffened. "Who? What?"

"Cor and the brigade just pulled in. They're home. The boys . . . my brother . . ."

"What about Ignis?"

"I don't— "

Aranea shoved passed Iris and took off running, Iris following close behind, to the main road of Lestallum. So, Noctis did it. At the cost of his own life, he sacrificed everything for everyone to have a chance at peace. It was only a matter of time then for the sun to finally rise.

The stretch of stone pavement dragged on forever and Aranea felt a stitch forming in her side. She finally arrived where Cor and the team had parked their vehicles. They were surrounded by a crowd of civilians, all crying tears of joy. Aranea and Iris pushed through the throngs of people to the center and they saw Gladio leaning against a truck, hair matted with dried blood and several cuts marring his face and arms. He looked up and his face softened as he saw Iris and Aranea standing there. Iris immediately ran into his arms and he swept her up. They both laughed and cried and Iris kept repeating, "You did it!"

Cor walked over to Aranea. "Where . . . where is . . ." she stuttered, thoughts already thinking the worst. "Did he come back?"

The Marshal pointed to the outlook, where citizens went to get a better view of the Disc. She squinted and noticed two figures standing, one supported by the other. Cor gave her an affirmative nod and she sprinted to the outlook. Down the parking ramp, a short flight of stairs, another few stairs, and she found herself standing behind Ignis and Prompto.

Prompto looked over his shoulder, but his eyes looked dead. Almost soulless. He flashed her a fake smile and moved just enough to face Ignis and himself toward her. Aranea couldn't help the gasp she made. Prompto was beaten and bruised, a black eye already forming. Ignis fared worse with a gash, somewhat healed from the hi-elixirs, along the side of his head. A network of pink and red veins and arteries created a latticework pattern on his skin—a symptom of electrocution, Aranea gathered.

"It looks worse than it feels," Prompto comforted, tipped off by the frightened expression she bore.

"Bullshit, Blondie. You guys look horrible. What the fuck even  _happened_  in Insomnia?"

Ignis blindly stared ahead, almost like he was in a state of shock as Prompto ducked from under Ignis' arm. He waited until Aranea was close enough to take over as Ignis' support before backing away. "I'm going to see what's going on up in the city and leave you two alone," he said with a jaded smile before dragging his feet up the stairs to the celebration.

"Fuck, Ignis," she held back a choked sob as she scrutinized Ignis and the myriad of injuries that littered his body. "What did they do to you in that city? Are you . . . does it . . . shit, what happened?" The tacky, drying blood on his uniform. Slits and cuts clear through, revealing where healing cuts were before somewhat fading with the help of the elixirs. The look of total desolation and despondency as he remained mute. When he opened his mouth to say something, nothing came out and Aranea resorted to shushing him gently while running a careful hand down his face. "You don't have to say anything," she whispered.

He shook his head, his voice cracking from emotions and exhaustion. "I wanted to . . . I wanted to find a way to save him. I couldn't . . ." he faded off as a single tear fell, streaking the blood on his cheek.

"I know. Ignis, trust me, I know. You would do anything for him. That's just your nature."

He swallowed. "He made a fine king, one that I would've been delighted to work alongside. It's tragic how fast the end came. I only wish he could be here to enjoy the first sunrise with us." Aranea shifted as Ignis winced, his wounds smarting despite all the medical aid he received before coming home. "His body will be laid to rest in the park beside the Citadel. I don't even know how to begin to process this and already we're talking of how best to memorialize him."

The sky was turning a hue of pink and purple as the edges of the sun peeked over the horizon, dispersing angry black Starscourge clouds from above. "Hey, we'll get there. Don't worry about the logistics of everything right now. Look, the sun is starting to come up. How about we enjoy that for the moment, ok?"

Ignis nodded slowly, limping alongside her as they walked to the stone ledge of the outlook. He pulled his arm away from Aranea and supported himself by holding onto the ledge while Aranea ran her hand up and down his back, hoping the gesture would relax him a bit.

The corners of his lips quirked into a small smile. "I saw you. Us, together. Those visions brought me back. It was what kept me alive."

Aranea tilted her head. "What do you mean? You  _saw_  us? Like, literally?"

He pursed his lips. "I dare not question the logistics of such a feat, but yes; I was granted an opportunity to watch us before I regained consciousness. It was everything I needed to keep going."

The tears were coming back again in her eyes and she leaned her forehead on his shoulder to bury her face. "You actually got to see us?"

Ignis snaked a hand around her back and held her close. "Indeed. It was something I'll never forget. Your beauty amazes me, my love. And we're so happy and in love . . . seeing you carrying our daughter . . . it's more than I can put into mere words."

Aranea groaned lightheartedly. "Gods, Specs; could you  _be_ any more of a sap?" When he tried to laugh, it hurt too much and Aranea, once again, shushed him into silence. "Alright, don't strain yourself. No more laughing. I'm sorry, I'll be serious. And, in the spirit of being serious . . . you have no idea how . . ." her words tangled in the mess of overwhelming emotions that bubbled in her chest. "I don't know what I would have done if you didn't come home. I understand this is hard for you, but I'm so proud of the man you've fought to become these last ten years. I promise we'll get through this, too. One step at a time, ok?"

Ignis closed his eye and bowed his head. "Thank you, Aranea."

"Anytime, Specs. I love you."

"I love you, too."

With one hand on Aranea's stomach, the other wrapped around her lower back, Ignis kissed the top of her head and breathed deep as the sun's rays warmed his face. Together, they basked in the first sunrise over Eos and thanked Noctis for bringing light back to the world, along with a second chance at a promising future together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: My headcanon the entire time has ALWAYS been that the Bros live. They rebuild Insomnia and make a world that Noctis would be proud of. Ahhhh, I can't tell you how good it feels to FINALLY write that! I know a bunch of you would write me and I'd put off talking about my headcanon since it would be an obvious spoiler for this story. But yes, I believe they live, even though it would be incredibly hard for them to get by at first. 
> 
> I wrote this chapter, not really thinking much about it. Then it hit me. This is it. The next chapter is more an epilogue than anything to tie up all the loose ends. So, really . . . I mean, this is it. And it's weird. Like it's not real.
> 
> Of course, I'll save all the sentimental stuff for my author's note next chapter :) But dang . . . I'm not sure what else to say. 
> 
> I hope to have the epilogue up sooner than Sunday, since it won't be near as long as some of these chapters have been. I say that now, but watch it'll end up being another 5,000-6,000 word chapter. Hey, would that really be such a bad thing? :)


	23. Epilogue

**Water Under the Bridge  
Epilogue**

"What do you say?" the woman nudged her son, no older than 6 or 7 years old.

The little boy, unruly jet-black hair and a scowl on his face, muttered and pushed the food around on his plate. "I don't  _like_  this."

The woman turned to Ignis, a red flush spreading across her cheeks. "I'm sorry. He's still in the whole 'vegetables are disgusting' phase. Please, don't take offense. It's not your cooking at all," she apologized.

Ignis gave her a soft smile. "That's quite alright. I knew a young man once who abhorred vegetables as well. One day, I'm confident that your son will come to appreciate them. In the meantime," Ignis brought a platter of macaroni and cheese from behind his back and placed it on the table, almost directly in front of the young boy, "the young man I looked after also very much enjoyed the occasional plate of macaroni and cheese. Maybe you'll find it delicious as well?"

The boy's eyes lit up and he looked to his mother for permission to dig in, to which she nodded discreetly. Almost immediately, the boy shoveled the food in his mouth and the mother laughed. She looked up at Ignis and placed a hand on his forearm. "No wonder people flock all over to your restaurant. You always know just what everyone wants, don't you?"

"I appreciate the compliment," Ignis smiled in returned toward her direction. "Please enjoy your lunch."

With a bow, his now shoulder-length hair slightly covering his face as he did so, he gave the pair one last grin before turning on his heels and walking back inside. As he crossed the restaurant's interior, he passed by the bar where Aranea sat, tapping a little girl on the shoulder. She looked a lot like Aranea—from her silver hair, sharper jawline, all the way down to the very facial expressions that Aranea was known for. Except for her eyes; her eyes resembled Ignis'—cat-like and green, as his were before his injury. Always sharp, alert, and attentive to every minute detail.

"Sit down, Sage. It's a safety hazard to stand in your seat."

Sage looked wildly to her mom. Aranea smirked and pressed gently on Sage's shoulder. "You heard your father."

"But . . . how does he  _know_?" the child whispered, intrigued.

"Years of practice," Ignis responded as he rounded the end of the bar to stand in front of them. "Now, please sit down before you fall over and hurt yourself. I don't want to have to take you to the hospital today if you don't mind." Sage pouted, finally relenting and sitting properly in her seat.

Ignis smirked, running a hand through his hair while he fell into his own thoughts.

Today was the anniversary.

Five years.

It had been five years since Noctis' departure. Since daylight returned to Eos. Since the end of Ardyn. Ever since that day, life flourished and thrived. It was quite a different world than everyone was used to, but that wasn't to say that it was unwelcome.

Plenty of citizens remained in Lestallum, having already made a life in the city. They didn't want to uproot everything to start over, which was understandable. Instead, the upper echelon of people—Cor, Gladio, Prompto, Ignis, Aranea, Iris, and Talcott—returned to Insomnia to rebuild once more. Biggs and Wedge parted from the group, citing that they were ready to return to Niflheim. A handful of people joined them there as well. Aranea kept in contact with them over the years, continuing to receive letters and updates from their side of the world.

Cor agreed to manage everything during the reconstruction process, but after that, he warned, he was done. He was tired of running a city and wanted a break. Just as he said, after the Citadel was restored to its former glory and a good chunk of the city was repaired, Cor was content to sit back, allowing Gladio and Ignis to take the reins for a bit. Iris and Talcott helped a lot as well.

Once Insomnia was on its way to a full recovery, Prompto told everyone that it was too hard to remain in the city. He left, settling in with Cindy—purely as friends, but Prompto was content with that at this point—at Hammerhead. He was a hollowed version of his former self, the life and light in his eyes merely dimmed to a shadow of what they once were. At least in Hammerhead, it was easy for him to stay busy, helping with the maintenance and upkeep of vehicles and various machinery.

Gladio and Roseline, the bartender from Lestallum, moved into a suite in the Citadel, down the sweeping halls from Cor's wing of the building. They put off having children at first, reasoning that the world, and Insomnia, needed Gladio's full attention for the time being. Once that was taken care of, they started a family—two rowdy and raucous twin boys to complete their brood.

Ignis and Aranea had their daughter two short months after the sun first rose. A few days before her birth, they had a small ceremony to exchange wedding bands and solemn vows with Gladio and Prompto in attendance. It was more a formality between them than anything. Still, it was simple and quiet—exactly what they wanted. Together, with baby Sage, they moved into their residence on the other side of the Citadel.

The time after Noctis' death left Ignis in a strange state. It was a roller coaster—one minute ok, the next minute bitter and wrought with emotions. Aranea worked with him to pull him from the throes of depression. Gradually, Ignis went days without being angry and the long, dark moments of paralyzing grief became few and far between. It stopped being a sharp pain and turned into a dull ache in the pit of his heart, one that would never truly heal. Having Sage in his arms, hearing her babbles and cooing in the middle of the nights, helped a lot. It was hard to be anything but at ease when she laughed up at him, reaching for his tinted glasses and ripping them from his face while Aranea watched quietly from the nursery doorway, unnoticed.

Eventually, Aranea persuaded him to follow through with Noctis' dying wish in opening his own restaurant. Ignis tried to come up with every reason why it wouldn't work: Who would frequent an establishment run by a blind man? How could he ensure that he was attentive to all the customers without the use of his sight? What if no one appreciated his food and this was all an epic fail?

Excuses. That's all they were. He soon caved and scouted out a small, hole-in-the-wall joint that would be perfect for what he had in mind. With some time, elbow grease, and the help of Aranea, Gladio, and Prompto (who still stopped in from time to time, despite how arduous it was for him), Ignis opened his restaurant to the growing population of Insomnia.

People  _loved_  the food he made. Most days he was busy with cooking and running the place. Gladio happily took on more of the responsibility of making sure Insomnia thrived, so long as that meant that Ignis continued to stay happy in the kitchen. It was rare if the restaurant wasn't mostly full, but that seemed to be the case today as only a handful of people came in to eat. Probably because of the picturesque weather that day. Everyone wanted to be outside instead.

When Ignis called to check in, letting Aranea know that things were slow, Aranea brought Sage in and kept Ignis company for a while. The little girl had a broken green crayon in her tight grip, doodling a stick figure family that resembled her, Aranea, and Ignis. When she finished, she thrust the paper in her mother's face, proudly proclaiming that it was them as she desperately waited for the Commodore's approval. Aranea smiled and took the picture from Sage before holding it out to Ignis. "She even got your glasses just right."

Ignis' fingers traced over the waxy lines that the crayon left. "Ah, she did. What a marvelous picture, Sage. You're becoming a fine artist," he praised, leaning across the bar to kiss his daughter's forehead.

As Sage giggled, ripping the picture back from Aranea's hands to draw some more, two toddler boys screamed from the other side of the restaurant's glass door. Gladio walked in, a hysterical boy in his arms while Roselin followed with the other crying child.

"HE. HIT. MEEEEEE!" the one boy wailed.

"HE. PULLED. MY. HAAAIIIRRRR!" the other one howled.

"Favian. Valen. That's enough! Don't make your mom and I take you home!" Gladio sternly disciplined, loud enough to quiet the boys in a heartbeat. When they were hushed to silent sniffles, Gladio exhaled and smiled at Ignis and his little family. "Kids. It's  _always_  something," he laughed, sheepish.

Ignis extended a hand, gesturing to the empty restaurant. "They're free to make as much noise as they please. It's abysmally dead today, so I'm not worried."

Sage scurried off of her stool and over to the two boys, both placed on the ground by their parents. The three kids shrieked with laughter as they chased each other around in an impromptu game of tag. Sage ran with more speed and agility while the Amicitia boys, a couple of years younger than the girl, bumbled around with their arms flailing this way and that.

While they played, Gladio and Rosaline took a seat at the bar. The former Shield cleared his throat. "Is . . . will Prom be here soon? Thought we could all head out together, but I haven't heard much from him the last week or so. I know this week is hard, but . . ."

Ignis shook his head and pushed his glasses up further on his nose. "I have not. You know how distant he gets around this time of year. I haven't anticipated any communication on his end, unfortunately."

As if right on cue, the bell hanging from the door clinked and Prompto crept in, almost as if he were uneasy about being there at all. "Is  _this_  where we're meeting?" he asked, though more tongue-in-cheek than anything. He was alone this time. Usually, Cindy accompanied him on these trips to Insomnia for support as they drove down the familiar streets laden with memories, but Cid had recently taken ill and it didn't look like he would make it much longer.

"Uncle Prompto!" Sage squealed from across the restaurant, abandoning her game of tag with the boys in favor of scrambling to Prompto, throwing herself into his legs and hugging him tight. The force nearly knocked Prompto backward and both Ignis and Aranea scolded the girl to be careful.

Prompto waved off the admonishment and picked Sage up. "Hey, Buttercup! When did you grow up? Weren't you just a baby yesterday?"

"Noooo, I'm almost five!" she corrected, oblivious to the playful tone he used.

Gladio approached Prompto as he put Sage down—and after almost getting mauled by Favian and Valen in a rather violent hug—and took him into a warm embrace. "Good to see you, Prom. It's been a while."

The blonde chuckled and scratched the back of his head nervously. "Yeah, well, you know how it goes. People need their cars and technology fixed! But you know I'd never miss today. It's impossible for me to forget."

Ignis shrugged. "Indeed, but we would understand if you couldn't— "

"Hey, woah now. I wouldn't miss today even if I was on my death bed. Never. Don't insult me like that," he snapped, but quickly recovered. "Sorry. It's not— "

Ignis moved deftly behind the bar, turning off a burner and picking up a dish or two that he left out. "Understood, Prompto. No need for apologies. We have missed you, though. Your absence never goes undetected."

Prompto closed his eyes and shrugged. "It's too hard, man. Ever since Noct . . ." he faded off, choked up. The air in the room changed and everyone remembered the  _real_  reason they were there today. The Amicitia boys, ignorant to the mood in the restaurant, giggled and wrestled beside a booth in the corner.

Ignis smiled in their direction and crossed his arms over his chest. "Well? After my customers outside finish up their food, shall we head out?"

Gladio nodded once. "Sounds good. While we wait, do you have any of those Memory Lane Pastries leftovers? For nostalgia's sake?"

"Thought you'd never ask," he replied, walking to the counter furthest in the corner where the pastries were that he made earlier the day before, just for the occasion today. "They always do remind me of Noctis."

* * *

There was a field of grass on the outskirts of Insomnia, extending and ending right at the edge of the Wall. Prompto hitched a ride with Ignis, Aranea, and Sage while Gladio and his family followed behind. They came up on the grass and slowed to a stop, everyone congregating beside the cars when they got out and making their way to a modest stone in the middle of the pasture.

Ignis held Sage in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder. Aranea guided Ignis with a hand on his lower back and everyone else fell into step with them. The sun was overhead and bearing down on them, creating a sheen of sweat on everyone's brows. Despite the sadness, the sun made for a pleasant day.

Then, they stopped, standing before the stone. On it were the words:

_Noctis Lucis Caelum_   
_735 – 766_   
_Beloved King, Son, and Friend_   
_"Walk Tall"_

Sage shifted in Ignis' arms and he let her down, kneeling before the monument at the same time. His hands brushed against the chilled gravestone, fingering the etched lettering as a sigh escaped his lips. Soon, Prompto and Gladio were on either side of him, sitting and kneeling, respectively.

Ignis felt Aranea's presence behind him and soon she had a reassuring hand on the back of his head, her fingers threading through his hair. Roseline took to watching after the children, urging them to keep quiet while they squealed and rolled down a hill.

"Five years. Sure goes quick, doesn't it?" Prompto whispered before sniffling. The other two men had no words. The silence spoke volumes. So, they stayed perched by Noctis' marker, quietly reminiscing in their minds. When a calm breeze blew passed them, it almost felt as if Noctis was there to say that everything was alright.

Even in death, he was there with them.

Finally, once they paid their respects, it was time to go. One by one, the trio stood up and dusted the loose grass and dirt from their hands and pants. As Ignis turned around, he felt Aranea's arms snake around him and pull him into an encouraging hug. She understood how hard this was; after all, she'd been by Ignis' side almost the entire time, from Noctis' disappearance, all the way to his final ascension. She was there when Ignis' eye glazed over, dazed and confused for days after as he tried to comprehend what had happened. She was there when he refused to talk, just sitting by his side.

More importantly, as she said when standing in front of him while they exchanged rings, she'd be there, with Sage, to the very end. No matter what.

Ignis kissed the top of Aranea's head and then brought her face up to kiss her on the lips. Sage, the light of their lives and the physical manifestation of their love for each other, came bouncing over as Gladio's sons cried again in the background—something about one of them pinching the other too hard. Aranea bent down and hoisted her daughter up so she was now level with her and Ignis.

"Daddy?" she started, head cocked curiously. "Is it true that that guy— " her tiny finger pointed to the stone, "—saved the world?"

Aranea stole a glance at Ignis as the edges of his lips quirked into a smile. "It is."

Sage gasped. "And you  _knew_  him?"

His smile grew. "Yes. I watched him grow up from a prince to a king. He was one of my dearest friends. Your mother knew him, too."

"Mommy? You knew him?"

Aranea chuckled and brushed a stray hair from Sage's forehead. "I sure did. I was a little mean to him and your daddy at first, but I was nice after that," she said as she nudged Ignis playfully, to which he shook his head and laughed. "The prince, er . . . king, was a really awesome guy.  _And_  he saved the  _whole world_ and brought back the sun."

Sage's eyes were wide with wonder. "Wow. I wish  _I_ could meet him! What  _else_  did he do? Did you guys have fun? Did you play? I wanna know!" she inquired eagerly.

He wasn't ever  _elusive_  when it came to talking about Noctis, but it also wasn't something he'd ever thought that his daughter would be curious to know about. Just as Aranea opened her mouth to tell Sage that they'd talk about it another day, Ignis turned his face to the sky. He thought about it a second longer and then took a deep breath before looking in Sage's direction.

"We  _did_ have fun, and it all started when our car broke down outside Hammerhead . . ."

 

END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's Note: I know I said this would come out earlier this week, but my computer crashed so I just got it up and running Friday (which also explains my lack of responses to any of the reviews and comments I received). My apologies!
> 
> But, here we are. Finally the end of Water Under the Bridge. It doesn't feel real. I'm stuck in a weird, bittersweet feeling right now. I started this, not really even thinking I'd get far. I didn't think it would get the responses it did. I started writing this because it was a nagging prompt in my head that wouldn't leave me alone and I ran with it. From this, I've made some incredible friends. I've learned a lot about myself and what I'm capable of. It's surreal, to say the least.
> 
> It's not the end, though. Like I said, I have a one-shot coming (it was almost done and I lost it when my computer crashed so yay for rewriting it lol) and then I'm in the process of outlining my next HighSpecs fic. I intend for it to be darker and I'm excited to get it started. As a result, I'll be taking a week or so off to get that going, catch up on some fanfics that I've fallen behind on reading, and just some odds and ends stuff before I throw myself into another long fic. So, I will be back soon! It just won't be this upcoming weekend ;) I'll keep you all updated on Tumblr (same username as here!).
> 
> Alright, I've rambled on long enough. Once again, thank you all so much. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I couldn't have done this without you all. It means the world. All the reviews, comments, messages, everything! It kept me going through this. Thank you :)


End file.
